


The Darkness That Waits

by Florrama



Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: F/M, Grishaverse, Involves alarkling and Malina but is not an alarkling or Malina story, She just wants to solve Murderers folks, Some death but no major characters, Supernatural - Freeform, TGT, The men piss Alina off but she needs to use their skills, a little gore but not explicit, victorian style era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:33:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 36,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26272660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florrama/pseuds/Florrama
Summary: In a city that never sleeps, a true darkness is beginning to wake; it prowls the city, feeding on the pure terror of its inhabitants - and Alina Starkov is at the centre of it all. As her powers grow, so does her magical attraction to the mystical, criminal underbelly of the city… and to the man that shows her it all.—Though it contains elements of both Alarkling and Malina in terms of dynamics, this is not a story based on ships/ship wars nor romance. The focus is on Alina solving murders and working through her powers.
Relationships: Mal Oretsev/Alina Starkov, The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova/Alina Starkov
Comments: 54
Kudos: 32
Collections: Grishaverse Big Bang 2020





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I’m so excited to finally begin posting this! Chapters will post regularly over the next few weeks, and both the prologue and chapter one will post this evening. I really hope you all enjoy this, and make sure to look at the art these amazing artists have made too! Fic is for the grishaversebigbang.
> 
> There is also art for this fic! So please check out their pieces:
> 
> @bluejillustrations:  
> @lady-ekatherina-de-mika:https://lady-ekatherina-de-mika.tumblr.com/post/628268785584979968/victorian-au-alina-starkov-for-the  
> @kavinskysdick: https://kavinskysdick.tumblr.com/post/628268276162674688/im-still-going-to-fight-this-thing-whether-you  
> @magnificent_milk_tea:  
> @tsaritsa_zoya edits for Alina: https://tsaritsa-zoya.tumblr.com/post/628268249471139841/alina-starkov-for-gang-14-the-darkness-that  
> Edit for Aleks: https://tsaritsa-zoya.tumblr.com/post/628268249442926592/aleksander-morozova-for-gang-14-the-darkness-that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I just want to point out again that although both alarkling and Malina are tagged in this fic, this is not about those ships - they are simply dynamics that do appear. Malina does appear in a very minor romantic context, as you will see, and alarkling appears more as a ‘there is tension here bc you are an antithesis to my powers and I need the answers you have, but not because I am physically attracted to you’. Essentially, if you are here for alarkling or Malina 250k slow burn, this isn’t for you. I’m writing this because I know some people are disappointed that Alarkling isn’t anything like it was in Gods and Monsters - but my views of alarkling have changed since then. Either way, I hope you enjoy my attempt at a gothic murder mystery!!

Across the countryside and green, rolling hills, there is a city, unmajestic and ordinary in the way it appears the same as every city that there has ever been and ever will be. Its cobbled streets are lined with flickering lamps, and its buildings loom over darkened silhouettes that walk the streets at night. The public parks are kept beautiful with painstaking accuracy: perfectly trimmed bushes, flowers that bloom in a myriad of gem-like colours, a startling flash of brightness amongst dull grey hues, and a fog that never seems to lift. 

Except the city isn’t like any other at all. There is a river, sparkling and clear, that runs and weaves under bridges, cutting the city in half. And once you cross that river, once you slip through the bustling market and take one single step over the cobblestone bridge, everything becomes a little clearer; the fog lifts, grey hues disperse. Across the river, the stars shine a little brighter and the sun feels a little warmer. It feels almost like magic. And it must be because as soon as you cross back, dip your toe into the world of grey and beige - you forget the magic even exists. You forget the seductive woman with slightly pointed ears and the man with a smile that had been just as sharp as his teeth. You forget it all; return to your ordinary life. So content with shadows that it seems impossible a rainbow can exist.

But not everything is as perfect as it seems.

A black figure prowls across the bridge, its movements restless. Each step is silent, though it isn’t an elegant creature; its limbs seem to bend in odd directions, and inky strands of shadow leak from its slick, black body. A soft growl leaves its mouth - a large, gaping thing filled with row upon row of sharp, obsidian like teeth - as it surveys the area. It has no eyes.

But it’s not as if it needs them to see.

It comes to a stop on the other side of the river, glances back at the water with a growl, before continuing on through the colourful stalls of the market and entering a labyrinth of thin and dirty alleyways. It thrives here, appreciates the long shadows and feeling of soft, underlying misery that seems to seep from the buildings around it. The misery is so human - never feeling fully content, a self-pity that only they seem to manage. But misery isn’t enough for it to feed on. This creature is nothing like the others across the river. They may often be malicious in their intentions, but at least they hide their ugliness with beauty unmatched. This thing of black and shadow is ugly through and through, bred through an unfortunate experiment by its master, feeding on pure terror - savouring it. 

And it has grown bored of the same old diet. Human terror is unique, and it _craves_ it.

A shout sounds from one of the buildings to its left, and the creature halts, listens in wait. But nothing else happens, and it continues on with a slight huff of frustration. But then footsteps patter past the mouth of the alley - and the reek of fear builds with every step the human takes.

The creature growls loudly enough for the human to hear and feels a sense of smug satisfaction when the footsteps suddenly freeze. The fear spikes, likely choking in their throat. The creature slinks backward as the steps appear, slipping and blending into the shadows. The human steps into the mouth of the alleyway, wearing a smart, blue uniform and holding a baton tightly in his hands. It’s likely slick with sweat now, and the stench of fear wafts slowly throughout the alleyway. The creature breathes it in. More shadowy strands begin to drip from the corners of its mouth. 

When a cat darts past, fur shiny and black, the human visibly relaxes. His shoulders droop, chest deflating as his lungs release the air they had been holding tightly in. And then a soft laugh, still nervous, but light in its relief and slight embarrassment slips from his lips.

The creature steps into the shard of light cast from the street lamp at the mouth of the alley, and almost smiles as the human’s features drop. Its grin is an awful thing; teeth on full display, shadows dripping from its mouth - and the sound it makes, low and rumbling, is more like a purr. It is more terrifying than any growl could ever be.

The human is frozen to the spot. His baton hangs loose between his fingertips, and his limbs shake with a ferocity that the creature isn’t used to seeing. Those across the bridge usually attempt to fight first; this experience is something else entirely. A meal, practically handed over on a sparkling, silver platter. One step, and the human opens his mouth to a scream just as silent. The widening of a brutal grin and his knees buckle.

As the creature leaps, inky claws digging into pale skin and jagged teeth cutting through soft flesh, the human falls to his knees.

The city is almost silent that night, save for the clatter of a baton as it hits the ground, and the soft purr of a creature barely sated.

And the city - ordinary and dull and miserably grey - will never be the same again.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1! This was one of my favourites to write, hence why it’s over 4k words. Again, I hope you enjoy - and for those of you that are here for Aleksander/the Darkling, I promise he’ll be making an appearance soon.

The grandfather clock’s chimes vibrate through the floorboards, immediately waking Alina - although waking is far too gentle a word to use; her chest moves rapidly, in time with the soft and erratic sound of her panting, and white sheets lay crumpled, hanging off the bed from where they tangle between her legs. It takes her a moment to actually get up. Shaky legs make the floor seem as if it’s unbalanced, and leave Alina leaning against the wall for a brief second. Her eyes slip shut again, head resting against the wall, just a few centimetres from the window and its ebbing curtains. Sunlight slips through, warming her pale cheeks - and Alina breathes in, once, deeply. Her legs, though still unsteady from the odd tremble, calm enough to carry Alina to the bathroom and pause just before the porcelain sink. 

As water begins to slowly trickle into the basin, and birds twitter just outside her window, Alina slowly opens her hands - only to wince. Angry, red crescent moons mar her skin, crossing the deep lines of her palm. The dream, though always the same, had seemed worse tonight. The wave of darkness had been stronger, the light that erupted from behind her more dazzling. It was all too much and, as usual, Alina’s appearance and health have paid the price.

Staring in the mirror used to be a painful experience, lasting only a few seconds before Alina would have to look away - but now she stares the reflection down, feeling only tired. So _tired_.

Shadows, forever darkening, lay under her eyes, and her hair hangs limp with sweat, slipping across her eyes and sticking to her neck. The reflection stares back with the same exhaustion, though Alina imagines the harsh smirk that pulls at its lips. _You are nothing. So weak._ It’s the same mantra she hears, whenever she wakes up. The same feeling of helplessness.

Alina sighs, and dips her hands into the cool water. The stinging sensation of the water along her marks in her skin is a welcome one - it helps break her from the numbness she finds herself in all too often. After a few moments, she begins to splash the water in her face, cringing at the sharp contrast to her hot skin, until the sweat along her brow and dried tears across her cheeks have disappeared. She pauses, watching as a single bead runs slowly down the bridge of her nose and drops into the basin below. 

Her eyes are sharper now, taking on that familiar stubbornness that Mal adores so much - most of the time, anyway - and a soft flush has returned to her cheeks, giving her pale skin a little more life. She’ll probably have to pinch them before she ventures outside. If anyone catches wind that she is in anything other than perfect health, it’ll be a visit to the family doctor - and God knows what else. The remnants of the dream lay in the shadows of her eyes, however, and the slight shake to her hands.

It’s odd really, how severely and how often her dreams affect her. Every now and then Genya will complain of a nightmare the night before, or Mal will arrive particularly early to make sure that Alina is okay - that it was only a dream. But Alina… almost every night she is plagued by some nightmare or other. And recently, for the past few weeks at least, it has been the same dream over and over again. That same wave of darkness, followed by a burst of bright light that Alina can never seem to trace. Then a laugh - husky and charming, moulding into something so chilling and inhuman that it follows Alina wherever she goes, even when she is wide awake. Not even Genya truly knows the full extent of her dreams - she just presumes it’s the consequence of the fairytale books Alina practically devours. Alina supposes it could be true, but they seem too real for that. Too significant. 

Just as Alina gently rubs a soft cloth along the damp curve of her neck, a loud knock sounds from behind her bedroom door - followed by loud footsteps as the intruder decides they might as well just let themselves in. There’s a slight break in the pattern of steady footsteps as they stumble. Alina doesn’t quite manage to smother her laugh at the curse that follows.

“So unladylike, Genya!” Alina calls through into the bedroom as she drapes the cloth over the edge of the sink. “What on Earth would your mother think?”

A bright flash of red hair appears in the mirror, accompanied by the slight scowl and narrowed eyes of Genya Safin. How she manages to get ready so quickly so early in the morning Alina isn’t quite sure, but she does know that Genya always looks beautiful, even with - _especially_ with - the thin scars that grace her soft features.

It also means that Genya is more than ready to help Alina with her hair.

“You left your books on the floor again. There is a perfectly good bookshelf on the other side of the room, and I can’t quite fathom why you refuse to use it.”

“I don’t refuse to use it.” Alina retorts, as Genya steps past Alina into the bedroom. alina ignores the way Genya’s gaze narrows in on the shadows under her eyes and chooses to throw herself back onto the bed instead. “It’s full. And besides, when it’s late at night, and I have read myself to exhaustion, I’d much rather lay them on the floor than make the treacherous journey to the bookshelf.”

“Treacherous?” Genya huffs as she digs through Alina’s wardrobe. It’s filled to the brim, practically bursting at its hinges even, of different dresses and ball gowns. All mostly ones that Genya didn’t want anymore, considering Alina spends most of her allocated allowance on watercolours and books, but there are a few that have been specifically made to Alina’s tastes. 

Not even she can say no to a new dress, especially when they are made so beautifully and intricately.

“Quite-”

A pale blue dress lands unceremoniously over Alina’s head. Her vision may be obscured, but she can still hear Genya’s laugh loud and clear.

“Get dressed, Alina. You don’t want Malyen to see you in your _nightclothes._ ” 

Alina drags the fabric down with a small huff and turns to watch Genya saunter away. 

Her relationship with Mal is somewhat complicated, at least in terms of the standards society expects them to maintain. They’ve known each other practically since birth, having both been sent to orphanages almost as soon as they were out of the womb - although they are the lucky ones. Most unwanted children are left to the streets or workhouses; it’s a brutal fate Alina can’t quite imagine. She and Mal bonded almost immediately, both being seen as outcasts, both never having any memories of any other home than the ramshackle, barely functioning orphanage. 

Until Alina had been taken in as some kind of ward by Genya’s parents. 

As wonderful as having a loving family was, and it truly is the most wonderful thing - Alina will forever be grateful for the opportunities they have provided for her - being separated from Mal was like losing a lung. Even at the tender age of nine, Alina knew that Mal was meant to be in her life.

Then seven years later, while strolling through the market one morning - she had been proven right. Mal had stood by a fruit stall, dressed head to toe in a bespoke suit and the same, slightly crooked smile - and Alina found a home. Her _true/_ home. And it had blossomed. The lingering touches began, the soft yearning in gazes and smiles. The hidden messages in words and the hours spent tracing his familiar handwriting in letters and notes. But no one knows, save for Genya, because Alina is terrified that once the illusion of a forbidden romance is shattered, that once their secret rendezvouses become public strolls in the park - it may lose the magic. 

And Alina refuses to lose Mal again. Fate may not be so kind the second time around.

By the time Alina makes her way downstairs, wearing the dress that Genya had ever-so-lovingly thrown at her, Genya has already made herself at home in the kitchen, clearly eyeing the fresh pastries that the cook had made. There’s practically drool building at the corner of her lips. Her fingers tap the flour-covered tabletop impatiently, and Alina snorts at the look that the cook - Marie - gives her.

“Miss Genya, unless you want to burn that silver tongue of yours, I’d leave those pastries alone.” As Marie speaks, her soft accent rolls over Alina, bringing her a comfort she can’t quite explain. Marie may technically be a servant, someone employed by Genya’s parents, but Alina imagines the tone of finality in her voice would be enough to stop the king in his tracks.

Genya huffs, and the tapping finally ceases. “Fine.” She sulks, glancing once more at the forbidden pile of pastries like a child looking at their confiscated toy, before gesturing at Alina and standing in one swift, elegant movement. “I need to do Alina’s hair, anyway. Sit. Sit!” It’s an immediate action to do as she’s told - though only when Genya is concerned. Apparently, her stubborn streak runs deep. It’s something Alina takes pride in.

Most of the time.

“Pins?” Alina holds up a small, tin box, decorated with delicate white flowers. Where the paint has begun to peel, it looks as though the petals are morphing into something real. She’s lost count of the number of times Genya’s parents have offered to buy her something finer, something worthy of someone of her particular /station/. But it’s the only thing her mother left her with when she was left on the stone steps of the orphanage. It’s a connection to a life she never had. For better or for worse. 

For the next ten minutes, Genya weaves Alina’s hair into plaits, before pinning them into place. It’s a relaxing few moments, even with Genya tugging Alina’s hair in various directions and leaving a slight stinging sensation in her wake - at least, it’s relaxing until Marie leaves. And Genya begins to speak. 

“You had the dream again, didn’t you?” 

Alina stiffens, watching the retreating silhouette of Marie out of the corner of her eye. It’s quite clear that Alina isn’t exactly at her healthiest, and sleepless nights are taking their toll - but Genya’s question… it makes it all seem so much more sinister. Alina swallows the lump in her throat.

“Yes.” Alina replies stiffly, her voice stumbling over the word. Alina has always kept most of the details from Genya, but she’s no fool. They know each other like the back of their hand - and Alina never has been the best liar. “The same as always.”

Genya’s hands come to rest on Alina’s shoulders - thin and bony from an appetite that just doesn’t seem to want to manifest. 

“I’m starting to think that it’s more than just those books, Alina. If it was the books it would have stopped-”

“Genya.” Slowly, Alina raises a hand to settle over one of Genya’s. Her thumbs brush over soft skin and elegant fingers. Genya’s eyes are concerned - but firm. “I’m fine. I promise. I just scare easily.”

As she nods, the red ringlets framing her face bob - but Alina can tell she doesn’t believe her. The shadows under her eyes are far too prominent to ignore. 

“Alright.” There’s a chill to the air as Genya removes her hand, and Alina’s own hovers uselessly before dropping limply into her lap. “Well, we better leave in a moment.” Genya hums as she glances into the hall where another servant stands, holding their coats and purses. “We need to at least visit the market before you run off and hide with Malyen. Papa won’t be pleased if we return empty handed again.”

And then Genya is disappearing down the hall, her voice light and loud as she greets the servant by the door. Alina remains in her seat for a moment longer and stares down at the palm of her hand. The crescent moons have faded, and the angry red colouring along with it - but if she concentrates hard enough, allows her gaze to slip out of focus, lets her mind relax, she can feel a budding warmth there, not quite pulsing but ebbing, like the soft rays of light that had slipped between her curtains when she had first woken. In fact, it holds a similar heat, a similar energy, to the light from her dream. Perhaps…

“Alina! Will you please hurry? We haven’t got all day.” Her palm snaps closed immediately, and a flush burns at Alina’s cheeks that feels something akin to embarrassment - like a child who has been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. 

Or the pastry pile. 

“Yes!” The chair teeters as Alina stands upright in a swift, slightly clumsy motion. She rights it as quickly as possible but doesn’t bother pushing it back under the table. She’d rather face Marie’s wrath than Genya’s - and that is truly saying something. 

The market is a myriad of bright colours - a flash of light in the dim grey that is the rest of the city. Deep red silks and light blue cotton hang from pegs, while customers peruse the luscious red apples a stare longingly at bright pink and yellow sweets. Sellers lean over their stalls, waving their wares and shouting as loudly as they can over the cacophony of gossip and the clinking of silver. There’s a certain magic to the place, so at contrast to the rest of the, quite frankly, miserable city. Alina could get lost in here for hours. She often wonders if that is the magic at work: drawing people in, fuzzing their minds, making them lose track of time until there is no hope of return. It’s a favourite place of Alina’s and Genya’s. Technically, they could easily ask Marie or one of the other people under the Safins’ employ to go in their stead - but it’s a chance to get some fresh air.

And Alina is much more likely to ‘run into’ Mal when they visit the market. 

She just hopes Genya’s parents never figure out her true intentions. Especially not her mother. 

“So,” Genya begins, raising her hand as they walk. “We need fresh apples, some more silks for Mother, a new journal for Father, and we might as well have a quick peruse of the watercolours. Might as well willingly give into that temptation from the beginning, don’t you think?” Each item is counted on her fingers, and as she talks Genya elegantly drifts through the crowd; it’s really quite easy for her. 

Genya commands the space with only her presence, and the crowd parts instinctively. They both halt by the stall that sells several different types of fabrics. Immediately, the merchant begins to claim that they come from all over the world - from the far east to the far west to the chilly north and south. But Alina notices the red fabric, patterned with black roses, and has to bite back a snarky retort.

The fabric had definitely been in the _Ghafa Emporium_ just the week before.

“Alina, what do you think of this one?” In her hands, Genya holds a fabric of light, rosy pink, accented with delicate strips of white lace. _Far too much for what it’s actually worth_ , Alina finds herself wanting to say, but she simply nods her head instead, throwing a sickly sweet smile at the merchant. She can almost see the sweat building at his brow as his own smile freezes and his eyes widen. 

“Beautiful, but what about -” Her words drift off, and Alina stares intently through the slight gap in the crowd. Over by the alleyway shifts a dark figure, somewhat misshapen in its appearance and jagged in its movements. And then it disappears into the long shadows, and Alina finds herself following its lead. Fingers tug at the sleeve of her jacket but Alina shakes her head and brushes them off. She doesn’t look away from the alley. “Just one moment, Genya. I’ll be - I’ll be quick.”

Alina pushes through the crowd, forgetting every piece of societal etiquette that she has ever been taught. People do cast her odd looks, and whispers follow her footsteps - but Alina doesn’t even pause to apologise. She doesn’t stop until she’s at the entrance to the alley, staring into the dark and clutching onto her purse so tightly that her fingers begin to cramp. The world feels to fall to complete silence. All she can hear is the pounding in her ears as her heart races into overdrive. 

Something shifts, her hands grip tighter. But it doesn’t stop her from taking another step further into the alley. Curiosity beats Alina’s fear time and time again - and this moment, with shivers crawling down her spine and chills rushing through her veins, is no different. If she focuses hard enough, she can almost feel eyes on her. Something not human. Something completely dark, and wicked and - 

A hand clamps down on Alina’s shoulder - hard and firm - and Alina stumbles as she whirls. She likely would have hit the floor, if those same hands hadn’t caught her in their grasp.

Outrage replaces fear all too quickly. Alina doesn’t even bother to see who’s watching before shoving the offender in their chest.

“ _Mal!_ " Slight vibrations pass through the soft fabric of his suit jacket and pulse down her palms as he laughs, carefully tugging her out of the alley at the same time. “Stop laughing. You scared me half to death.” She pulls away from his grip in a show of what can only be called sulking. As Mal reaches for her arm again, though keeping a respectable distance this time, Alina can’t help but cast a final glance over her shoulder.

_I swear…_

There’s still the prickle at the back of her neck, that unique feeling of being watched by something invisible. But Mal’s attention soon draws Alina away from the alley, and it isn’t long until she is entirely focused on him. Every smile is an additional butterfly in her stomach, and every laugh is another shock to her heart. Even when Genya finally rushes towards them, her scowl vicious and her voice shrill, each word goes in one ear and out the other. Genya does give up eventually, but Alina knows she’ll just be reprimanded about it later. 

They soon reach the high street, which is just as busy - though much less rowdy. The displays in the windows are designed to draw customers in: bright colours, pretty paintings, and distinctive signs hanging over doorways. But they’re also designed to attract a particular _demographic_. The intricate blue flowers painted over alabaster white. The price would even make Genya’s mother’s stomach turn. Genya stops by the old bookstore and turns to Alina and Mal with a look the queen would be frightened of. 

“You have twenty minutes. Then you need to be back.” Her eyes are focused on Alina as she commands the pair of them, although they do briefly flit to Mal. The message is clear. _And you need to be gone_. Mal nods - his grin barely suppressed. But then Genya begins to smile, and Alina remembers why she loves her so deeply (though she has never _truly_ forgotten). Genya believes in making others happy above all else, and as well as her scarlet hair and darling smile. Its what makes her so beautiful. It doesn’t matter how many times Alina asks, Genya will always be there to cover for her in Mal. _The perfect partner in crime._ “Have fun, stay safe. No getting involved in any of those mysterious criminal gangs while I’m inside, please.”

“I’m not quite sure we could get into that much trouble in twenty minutes, Genya.” Alina retorts, and Mal makes a low sound in agreement while Genya only shrugs, before slowly backing towards the bookstore. 

“I believe you can do anything you put your mind to, Alina. Legal or otherwise.” And then she disappears with the light ringing of a bell and the click of a closing door.

Mal immediately offers his arm to Alina and they begin to walk the length of the high street. Simply a woman and her chaperone. Nothing sordid. Nothing to be frowned upon - at least, not until they turn a corner and Mal lightly tugs Alina into a shadowed alcove. It’s tucked away between an old jewellers (that has long been considered obsolete) and a rundown tailors, making it the perfect spot; no one even considers coming this far down the street. One of Mal’s hands finds its way to her corseted waist, while the other strokes a loose strand of hair away from her cheek. His hands are gentle, slightly callused from hours spent on horseback hunting in the woods just on the outskirts of the city. Alina lets slip a laugh as he eases her against the wall.

“Genya will have your hide if you get even a speck of dirt on this jacket.”

He shrugs, drawing closer.

“I’ll buy you a new one. I’ll buy you all the jackets you want if you allow me one kiss.”

His smile is infectious, and Alina can feel her own smile tugging at her lips in response. Her fingers wind in the lapels of his jacket as his lips brush her cheek.

“Romantic.” Alina doesn’t get to say anything else. Mal’s lips are on hers - and the world fades away. It’s chaste to start with, a fairy kiss - brief and light and practically a whisper. But they soon give into the longing, and the heat in Alina’s stomach grows with the deepening of the kiss. It may have only been a week since they had last seen each other, but it’s enough to leave both of them desperately clutching at one another. It’s the slight risk of being found, the intoxicating taste of an almost forbidden embrace. 

It’s perfect, until Mal moves to her neck, Alina’s eyes open for a brief, flashing moment - 

And she sees the body on the floor.

No scream erupts from her mouth, and neither do tears spring to her eyes, but Alina does go rigid in Mal’s arms and her lips fall apart in pure, undiluted shock. It’s not just that she’s never seen a corpse before, or that they were the two that stumbled across it - it’s that the body belongs to a police officer, someone who seemed so untouchable on their pedestal in society, and his head…

His head faces the wrong direction.

Alina slips out of Mal’s arms just as he notices the rigidity of her movements. Her steps are slow as she approaches the body, and she can feel Mal just a few inches behind her with his hand hovering comfortingly over her back. Only a metre away from the corpse, Alina bends slightly to get a better look - and immediately reels backward into Mal’s warm chest. Not only is the police officer’s neck and head twisted, but his face is frozen in bone-shaking fear - lips parted in a silent scream, eyes wide, cheeks still stained from the remnants of tears. 

As she leans in again, shakily taking hold of her fear in the strongest vice she can manage, all Alina can think of is the old Greek myth of Medusa and her terrifying abilities. In the same way, this man’s fear has been preserved. And it isn’t difficult to see why he died in so much pain and terror. Just like his head, his left arm is pulled in the wrong direction and likely dislocated; bone, slick with blood, sticks out of the material of his right trouser leg. The odd thing, and what really captures Alina’s attention, is how there is no pool of blood below the body like all of those fictional mysteries she reads suggests there should be.

Instead, black oozes from deep gashes and slashes. Black ink even gathers at the corners of his eyes, like unshed tears. 

Mal has to pull her back, away from the body. As he wraps her in his arms, whispering soothing words into her ear and running his calming fingers along his back, Alina can’t help but focus on the body in some form of ugly fascination.

But the corpse with its strange angles and inhumane slashes aren’t the only things on her mind; there’s a pulse in her veins, almost something akin to singing, as she stands close to the body and stares down at the black mess surrounding it. It’s intoxicating.

And it terrifies her.


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2! A little shorter than chapter 1, but this chapter has one of my favourite scenes in it. You’ll probably be able to figure out which.

The police deposit Alina and Mal back at the Safin estate while the sun is beginning to disappear behind a painting of reds and pinks. They find Genya treading holes into the soft carpet of the parlor, her hands tugging at her hair and her eyes wide with concern. Mal hovers by the door as Alina steps in, and she’s grateful for it. Alina doesn’t think she can take trying to explain what happened in Mal’s presence again. As loving and comforting as he is, the soothing strokes of his hand had soon become grating. She just needs peace–and space. Not someone smothering her like a mother does their child.

She’s never handled pity well, even if it is intended as sympathy.

Genya spins on the spot as the door closes behind Alina and effectively traps Mal in the hallway. It closes with a soft click, but it practically echoes throughout the room. Not even the crackle of the fireplace can calm Alina’s nerves. Every part of her being is standing on edge–the exhaustion and shock haven’t quite settled in yet. And to make matters worse, she can’t quite forget the thrumming at her fingertips in the presence of the corpse–but that isn’t something she wants to worry Genya with now. It can wait.

“Alina–” For the first time in what seems like forever, Genya is speechless. The silence hits Alina like a carriage. They still stand metres apart. “They said there was a body, wearing blue. I presumed it was you.”

“No, not me.” Alina shakes her head, but the motion is weak. Her hands are starting to shake and her shoes shuffle uncomfortably against the carpet. “But I did see the body. Found it, rather.” As much as she tries, and she really does try, Alina can’t stop the shake of her voice or the slight crack that breaks halfway through. 

It doesn’t take Genya long to sweep her into her arms. Alina’s own arms wrap around her back immediately, and she rests her head in the curve of her neck–not caring that she’s effectively swallowing Genya’s hair.

“We don’t have to talk about it now, okay? But you do need to talk about it some time or another.” Delicate fingers begin to stroke the back of Alina’s hair and stay in place until Alina finally pulls back. She nods as Genya moves her hand to stroke a single tear from her cheek. “I know you like to pretend everything is alright, but bottling it up won’t help this time.” Alina holds onto Genya’s wrists lightly, and sighs.

“You’re right, as always. I think I just need to go rest, for now.” 

“Of course. I’ll make you some tea.”

“I think you mean Marie will make some tea, but I appreciate the gesture nonetheless.” Alina snorts. Genya only whacks her arm in response, before lightly pushing her towards the door – but Alina stops just as her hand touches the brass doorknob. She meets Genya’s eyes for one final moment. “I really do appreciate it, Genya. All of it.”

“I know.” Genya smiles, and Alina feels her heart calm that little bit. “Go rest, I’ll speak to you this evening.” 

On the other side of the door, Mal waits with slightly anxious energy; his hands fidget with his hat while his knee bobs up and down. He almost jumps when Alina closes the door behind her. 

“Alina.” Mal stands to attention immediately and moves to take a step towards her, but the voices of Genya’s parents sound from down the hallway and he quickly retreats.

“I’m fine. It’s fine,” she reassures. He doesn’t seem to believe her–not in the slightest. But there’s no reason for him to. They hadn’t just found any old corpse, the poor man had been completely ravaged by something inhumane. Something almost otherworldly. 

“That’s my cue to leave, I take it.”

The disappointment in his voice chips a little at Alina’s heart, but letting him stay wouldn’t exactly be suitable. Besides, she needs some time to herself. A bath with those incredibly expensive salts Genya had bought a month ago is becoming more and more alluring by the minute. Just the thought of dipping her toes into the warm water is divine.

“I’ll see you next week. I just need some time.”

“I understand.” Mal chances one look down the hallway, his fingers gripping the brim of his hat nervously. As soon as the voices quieten, begin to drift away, Mal swiftly steps towards Alina and places a soft kiss on her cheek. Her eyes flutter shut for that brief moment; it feels like something she needs to savour. “Stay safe.” The words hover in the space between them, almost like a caress, but Mal soon leaves, and Alina can’t decide whether what she feels is disappointment or relief.

By the time Alina makes it to her room, the exhaustion of the afternoon is truly starting to set in. There’s an ache deep in her bones and soreness around her eyes that she can’t blink away no matter how hard she tries. In the end, Alina doesn’t even consider a bath; she sinks straight onto her bed, lays flat against the soft sheets, and closes her eyes. Alina fully expects to see the corpse there, behind her lids. Like some inscription or image etched into stone or painted onto parchment. Instead, there’s a soft glow–the same warm pulse she’d felt in her fingertips, except stronger. More persistent–and blooming in her chest. It doesn’t scare her this time, even though a tiny voice at the back of her mind warns her that it should. This isn’t ordinary. Any mention of it would surely send Alina straight to the closest asylum–but yet, she still welcomes the sensation. It’s too familiar to push away. 

But then she thinks of the glow in her dream, and the dark shadows that threaten her every time she dares to dream–and her eyes immediately open.

As she looks up at the ceiling, trying to find shapes and patterns in the soft shadows that the little light from outside casts, Alina considers the corpse again. The black inky stuff, or whatever it is, definitely isn’t something she’s seen before and, as far fetched as mystery novels may be, Alina is very well aware that humans don’t just bleed black. It didn’t even seem to have the same consistency as blood. Too much like liquid–almost like oil. Yet it still seemed to bleed from the man’s wounds… even from his eyes. And the gashes along his chest–they remind her of claws, similar to bear claws but much thinner. Whatever had slashed through the police officer had cut like knives, and incredibly deeply too. She almost wishes that she’d stayed by the body for longer, perhaps delayed Mal in yelling for some nearby help, all so that she could have gotten a closer look. All the details she may have missed…

Alina pushes herself up with a sigh. Why should she bother herself with the finer details of the crime? She’s no investigator–it certainly shouldn’t be her concern–and it’s not as if the police would listen to her even if she did have a sound understanding of whatever on Earth had happened. She does briefly wonder if the police will have a lead, but quickly shakes the idea away. They’ll likely look for a few days, decide it’s futile (even though it really isn’t) and then sweep the whole matter under the rug. Mal would be expected to keep the whole ordeal to himself, as a perfect gentleman of high society would, while also being responsible for keeping Alina quiet at the same time. No interviews, no gossip–and certainly no providing information to the press. God forbid that happen. And really, if the police are going to be so useless about the matter–and they will, no doubt–then perhaps someone else ought to take matters into their own hands. Not Alina, of course, but having one last look at the corpse won’t hurt, and it is only a look, not her own private investigation…

Not at all.

There’s a knock on the door just as Alina begins to reach for a jacket she’d left laying on her bed that morning–and she freezes, only just managing to stop herself from cursing out loud.

_Genya_.

“Alina! I’ve brought you some tea.” Only silence follows, and the soft breathing of Alina’s panic as she desperately tries to figure out what to do. She brushes down her skirt as she stands–but still doesn’t shout for Genya to enter. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes!” Alina replies quickly, only to clench her fists and swear under her breath. Not exactly the most natural she’s ever sounded, but she never has been the best at lying. “I’m fine. Simply tired. I think I need to sleep before we talk about today, Genya–when my mind is much more fresh.”

Alina holds her breath. She can practically hear the cogs in Genya’s head turning as she analyzes every single vowel and consonant in Alina’s words. It’s almost painful to wait.

“Alright.” She finally calls through, and Alina’s shoulders sag with relief. 

She stands silently as the tea tray rattles, and as Genya likely considers whether she should just burst in anyway. “Sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.” Then her light footsteps tread lightly away–though with every step Alina’s feeling of guilt grows. It’s not as if she was lying to Genya to be malicious, but it still feels like an act of betrayal to hide something from her. Especially when the _something_ in question had caused Alina so much grief in the first place. Alina reaches for the coat again, hurriedly doing up the buttons and redoing them again when she somehow manages to miss a hole. It takes her those few seconds to convince herself that it’s simply a white lie–nothing more, nothing less. Alina doesn’t plan on being out long, nor does she plan on being seen, and even if she is clumsy as sin, she’ll still be careful. So, really, there’s not even anything for Genya to worth knowing about.

At least, that’s what Alina _tries_ to convince herself.

There’s a brief moment as Alina pushes open a window and stares down into the garden. It’s a small enough drop–nothing drastic–but Alina does briefly wonder if taking the stairs down would be such a big risk. All it takes is nine chimes from the grandfather clock to tell her that _yes, it is too big of a risk._ Genya’s father will still be in his study, and both Genya and her mother in the parlor. Alina would have to creep past both rooms and, even if she does know which floorboards and steps creak off by heart, there’s still a very large chance that Alina would completely cock it up–as Genya’s father would so elegantly put it. A slight chill breezes past and a soft shiver trembles down her spine. It’s now or never; so Alina clumsily sits on her window pane, grabs onto the holding room there is–and drops.

The shudder that reverberates through her legs has Alina stumbling to the closest tree and violently slapping a hand over her lips to stop any curses from slipping out. It wasn’t painful, per se, but it’s definitely a shock she could have done without. But what’s done is done, and Alina doesn’t have time to spare.

So Alina sets off.

It’s about halfway through her foray into the darkened streets of the city that she truly realises that although the city begins to slip into quiet, it is all a facade. Between the cracks and in the shadows, she knows there’s another world she can barely begin to imagine: ladies of the night, drunkards stumbling across cobblestone streets, people slipping in and out of alleyways…

Murderers. Beings so monstrous they leave black ink spills in their wake. 

As someone who has been protected her whole life (even in the orphanage they were protected from the horrors of street survival), it’s not quite a shock, but definitely somewhere along the lines of an epiphany to come to terms with the underbelly of the city. Even more so to come face to face with it. It almost feels exciting, to dip her toes. She feels like some heroine out of a fairytale–though as she nears the high street, that fairytale morphs into something much grimmer. 

The golden glow from the odd street lamp does nothing to calm Alina’s nerves. Her excitement at dipping her toes into the criminal world–that naive wonderment–suddenly seems so very childish. Her steps slow as her heart quickens. A little voice in the back of her mind, that one that both speaks so much sense and goes constantly ignored, points out that she probably should have worn men’s clothing–for the safety and innate protection that a dress has never been able to provide. 

It also occurs to her then that she really should have told Genya. Even if it had caused an argument at least Genya would know where she was. The chill that settles in Alina’s bones is enough to make her pause completely. The walk home isn’t too far. If she leaves now she’ll make it before the clock chimes ten–

Then she feels it. That glow. The pulsing flow that had gathered and bloomed in the centre of her palm. It wraps around her bones, pushes out the chill and dread, makes its own home in her weary body. Her heart calms at the sensation. The warmth is a familiar friend, one that soothes and comforts and leaves Alina with a newfound determination to truly figure out what attacked and murdered the police officer. 

She pushes ahead, carefully watching the twisting shapes in the shadows but forcing her fear aside. The warmth in her bones grows as she nears the location of the corpse. Alina can feel it stretching outward, can imagine something golden weaving around her like a shield, ethereal in the way it shimmers and ebbs, and light despite the power it holds. And although Alina doesn’t understand it, this unusual reaction to the corruption leaking from the corpse, it isn’t something she necessarily wants to push away either. That same determination nearly causes Alina to run straight into the back of another police officer–though this one is very clearly alive and walking. She quickly stumbles backwards to duck around a corner and roughly presses against the wall. Truthfully, she should have expected police officers to be here. With the body still where it had been hours earlier, it would have been incredibly stupid to just leave it out in the open without officers to cart nosy onlookers away. 

Not that Alina is much better than said onlookers, but at least she wants to put her nosiness to use.

“Whatever it was, it slashed him up _badly_.”

“You don’t think it was human?”

Alina’s whole body stills, her lungs fill and pause. One of the policemen scoffs. 

“You think it is?” There’s a moment of quiet; Alina imagines them both staring down at the body, contemplating what it truly means to have something so sinister hiding within the city walls. “Nothing that can do that is human. Sherikov didn’t deserve this.” 

Alina slowly peers around the corner as their voices fade out, her fingers digging into the slight grime on the wall. They still stand close to the body, but their backs are to her, so Alina steps a little more confidently out into the entrance of the alley. It really is quite odd to think that only several hours ago Alina and Mal were wrapped in each other’s embrace, pushed against the wall, completely oblivious to what was about to shatter their rose tinted view. 

The corpse is still on the floor, limbs at odd angles, and Alina can’t get close enough to truly take in the sight–but just seeing it again is enough. Slowly, that warmth in her palm grows again–though this time, it seems to tug. Alina risks the slightest step forwards and feels a soft breath slip through her lips. The closer she gets, the stronger the feeling in her palm–and now, her chest. It makes no sense, but Alina can’t deny the physical warmth weaving around her ribs and threading through her lungs. What confuses her the most, is why it is so much stronger now. The body is the same as it was before. No more black ink leaks from its slashes or spills from its eyes. It hasn’t even been moved–and, as far as Alina can tell, no one, or _nothing_ , has returned to make an extra meal of it. Alina looks down at her palm once more and sighs. Maybe she has been reading too many of those fairytale books. 

Just as she is about to give up and leave, a large shadow on the other side of the police officers and the corpse shifts. It’s tall, draped in black and as it shifts again, Alina notices it’s not a shadow–but a man; she can see the perfect shine of his shoes in the slight lamp light, and the way the rim of his hat carefully covers eyes leaves Alina beyond curious; the tendrils of dark hair curling at the turned up collar of his throat only add to the shadow-like image. It wouldn’t take him much effort to truly blend in with the numerous dark shapes–but he isn’t. He stands close enough to the wall of the alley to obscure his features, but far enough for the light from the street to just reach him. By no means is he invisible–yet the police officers appear to be completely oblivious to the person standing before them.

At first glance, it would be easy enough to presume that the man was simply on their investigation force. The intensity with which he stares down at the corpse and the way his head tilts just so give him that analytical air–but the police officers don’t speak to him once. They may face him but they don’t interact. There’s not even the slightest acknowledgment of his presence. 

They can’t see him–but all Alina can do is stare. 

Then the brim of his hat tilts, his eyes meet hers, and Alina finds herself breathless.

It isn’t some primal form of attraction–the kind she feels when she’s around Mal–it’s deeper than that. An attraction she can’t explain. It’s the warmth in her chest building to something that almost burns and the pulsing in her fingertips wrapping around her wrist and desperately trying to pull her forward. It’s uncontrollable–something on an instinctive level. Completely beyond her understanding yet something so ingrained she just… it’s undeniable. 

His gaze is fully trained on her. There’s almost a sense of shock in the way his head straightens from its angle, as if Alina wasn’t supposed to see him; but then it returns to that cat-like tilt, and Alina feels herself shiver under that same analytical focus. When he begins to move towards her Alina can’t do anything but watch. There’s an elegance to the way he moves–even when he steps around the corpse and slides past the police officers. Both shiver, as if a breeze had rolled past, but neither look up nor notice the man strolling past them.

Towards her. 

The dark coat he wears billows behind him with each step, and Alina is instantly reminded of a protagonist from some penny dreadful. Even the sharp angle of his jaw, partially hidden by his collar, and the stark juxtaposition between his pale skin and dark clothing look like something picked straight out of a story. He doesn’t pause as he passes–but he does tilt his head towards her. And suddenly time seems to slow.

His eyes are a startling grey. Light like quartz. Alina’s fists clench at her sides, almost as if to trap the heat that flourishes as the arm of his coat brushes hers.

And then he’s gone.

Alina stares at the space where he had been mere seconds ago, before her body manages to finally catch up with her brain. She spins, skirts whirling around her legs, and dashes after him–but as soon as she rushes back onto the street, coming to a stumbling halt and completely ignoring the confused cries of the police officers behind her, Alina realises he is nowhere to be seen. There’s no silhouette in the distance, no dark shape slipping into another alleyway or shop doorway. The street is completely empty. Alina feels one of the police officers at her back, his hand resting roughly on her arm, as she stands still–but it isn’t in shock. It’s in frustration. That man, he knew what she felt. He knows something about what happened today–about what happened to her and the police officer both.

Alina needs answers. And she’ll do anything to get them.


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3! Thank you everyone for your support so far. Even though there hasn't been a big response to the fic so far, it is very concentrated and your comments and kudos mean the world. Enjoy!

The sky is almost pitch black as Alina throws the first stone at Genya’s window. After a brief interrogation by the two police officers, Alina had managed to convince them both that she’d only returned to the scene to try and find a ring that she’d lost. All it took was turning on the waterworks (something Genya had taught her) and they’d let her go. But then she’d faced the issue of getting back inside the house; the front door wasn’t exactly plausible, and Alina couldn’t climb back up to her window with nothing to climb _on._ So she’d kicked around a few stones in frustration, ran her fingers through her hair–and decided Genya was her only hope. 

It takes a couple of tries to actually hit the window and wake Genya up. The first hits the wall instead, and the second hits the window so lightly that it barely made any sound at all. On her fourth try, the stone smacks against the window with a loud enough sound to make even Alina cringe and manically peer into the street–just in case someone else heard and their curiosity got the better of them. It only takes a few seconds for Genya to push open the window, peer down into the garden, and scowl at Alina's sheepish smile.It's when Genya crosses her arms over her chest that Alina's smile slowly drops. They may be several feet away from each other, Alina can still feel the full brunt of Genya's irritation.

"Alina." Genya forces out. Her voice is smooth enough but her tone bites. Alina can feel herself drawing inward. 

For a few moments, Genya continues to stare down at Alina, who isn't really sure how to explain everything that's happened this evening. It certainly doesn't help that Genya is beyond annoyed, most likely borderline angry–though Alina wouldn't go as far as furious. Alina opens her mouth to speak, but Genya doesn't give her the chance to start.

"Go wait by the servant's entrance, I'll let you in." Her tone may be slightly resigned and still mildly irritated, but all Alina feels is relief. Her shoulders sag as her lungs release a large breath of air and the tightness in her shoulders loosens. Only a few seconds later does the door swing wide open, revealing Genya, looking like some beautiful, gothic wraith with her white nightdress and loose hair. As soon as Alina steps in Genya is taking her coat and guiding her towards the main stairs. A blanket of silence falls over the both of them–not quite suffocating, but heavy enough to make its presence known. But it's not until the pair of them are in the safety of Alina's room, Genya standing by the window and Alina awkwardly sitting on her bed, that she begins to talk.

"I went back to the body." 

Genya nods, arms crossed and posture rigid. "I figured. What did you find?"

The reprimand is clear, but so is Genya's curiosity–and an even stronger wave of relief rushes over Alina. Genya may be annoyed that Alina ran off in the middle of the night, through the streets of the city, only hours after a quite frankly _massacred_ body had been found–but she's also just as curious as Alina is about the whole situation.

"I couldn't get closer to the body, but the two police officers there clearly don't think it was human–whatever killed that man." 

"And what do you think?"

The question almost echoes throughout the room while the answer teeters on the edge of Alina's tongue. Admitting that she doesn't believe the attack was orchestrated by a human means admitting that she believes in something other–and not just to Genya, but herself. The attack could be easy enough to write off as poisoning, or some means of attack that no one has seen before–but the man that hovered around the crime scene, walked right past the police officers like some kind of shadow... it goes beyond the logic of science. It makes it impossible to reason that the murderer was human, or even some stray predator.

"I don't even think it's of this world, Genya. There's no animal that could cause a death like that... the way that dark ink spilled from his wounds and his eyes? It's no ordinary murder. It goes beyond the type of gory murder the police are familiar with." 

Genya peers outside the window once more before gently tugging the curtains closed and moving to sit next to Alina. It's obvious she doesn't know what to think. She wants to believe Alina, of course she does, but the idea of the stuff of gothic novels and tales of fantasy being real is difficult to swallow. 

Alina understands, but she also desperately needs Genya to believe in this as much as she does.

"There was a man there." The words are deliberate, calculated. Out of the periphery of her vision Alina can see the slow furrow of Genya's brows and feel the full focus of her gaze. "He was there to have a look around the crime scene, I'm certain, but the police officers–" Alina feels phantom pulsing warmth weaving in between her ribs and the lump in her throat reappears. "They didn't see him, Genya. He walked right past them, almost brushing shoulders, stepped _over_ the corpse. And they didn't even look up."

"But you saw him."

It isn't a question, but Genya doesn't stop waiting for Alina's response. After a moment of staring down at her hands, Alina looks back up at Genya, and nods.

"I saw him."

A soft sigh leaves Genya's lips, and she lightly rubs the bridge of her nose. 

"So what do you think this all is? Magic of some kind?" Genya asks, and Alina more than happily notes that her questions aren't the slightest bit rhetorical or critical. She just wants all of the information Alina can offer.

Genya's intelligence has always been overlooked, even by her parents–though Alina supposes that's just the consequences of living in a society where values that make you a good wife are more important than those that make you _you._ It's a subtle kind of intelligence. Genya may not have been taught how to solve complicated mathematical or scientific formulas, nor how to write beautiful poetry or complex laws for government–but it's present in the way she speaks and acts. Always calculated and careful in the right moments, forever able to understand emotions in a way that Alina finds difficult. It's why Alina trusts her with this information, and it's also why Alina and Genya have always gotten on so well.

Genya understands her in a way no one else seems to be able to. Not even Mal.

"I don't know if it's magic, but I don't think it's dissimilar," Alina explains quietly. "He seemed to blend with the shadows as if his edges blurred like watercolour." 

They sit in silence for a moment, both thinking of what Alina had seen in that alleyway. Alina can almost hear the cogs in Genya's head turning–but her own seem to have settled. Magic existing, or whatever the correct terminology for it is, feels right almost. The knowledge settles in her heart and seems to fill gaps in her mind–perfectly, like a puzzle slotting into place. As if it had belonged there all along. 

Then Genya stands, and Alina feels her body sag as all remaining energy drains from her limbs. She runs a hand through her hair and smiles sheepishly as Genya runs a thumb gently across the dark circles beneath her eyes and gives her a slightly reprimanding look.

“You’re sleeping in tomorrow.”

“You say that as if you’re not usually the one waking me up at ungodly hours of the morning.”

Genya’s scowl lifts a laugh from Alina’s lips–which only becomes louder as Genya’s own lips.

“Eight o’clock is not ungodly, Alina.” 

“It’s the crack of dawn.”

“Whatever you say.” Genya sighs, smiling briefly before pressing a soft kiss to Alina’s forehead. “Get some rest, I’ll see you in the morning.” 

As soon as Genya leaves, closing the door behind her softly, Alina lays back and closes her eyes–and it feels like she’s only closed her eyes for a few seconds before she’s woken by bustling downstairs and the sound of her door being shoved open. 

Except, instead of finding Genya standing in her doorway, Aya, Genya’s mother, bustles in, drifting around the room in a burst of elegant speed, quickly tugging open her curtains, and singing quietly under her breath. Aya is usually happy enough, but the singing under her breath is a sure sign that something has happened. Something so big that she happily ignores the books littering Alina’s floor and the slightly muddy footsteps by her bedroom door. All Alina can do is push herself up onto her elbows and feel her eyebrows pull together as she watches in growing confusion. She pauses by Alina’s bedside, almost pouting as she realises that Alina had fallen asleep in yesterday’s clothes.

“Oh, Alina.” Soft fingers gently caress Alina’s forehead, slipping slightly into her hair. “You must be so tired… but I am _sure_ the news will make you feel rejuvenated! Oh, I cannot wait!” Her lips brush quickly across Alina’s cheek before she darts out of the room just as quickly as she had entered. Alina stares at the doorway and finds Genya leaning against the doorframe, dressed far too smartly for a simple day out, wearing an amused expression at her mother’s sudden sunshine-mood. 

“Genya, I think we may have to contact a doctor. Maybe even an exorcist.” 

A quick laugh, almost a choke, slips from Genya’s lips before she gestures to Alina’s wardrobe.

“Get dressed. I’ll explain everything as we walk to Katarina’s.”

“Katarina’s? Why do we need to go there? Didn’t you have a new dress made only last week?”

“I did.” Genya shrugs as she pushes away from the door frame. “But we can’t just wear _anything_ to a royal ball, can we?” 

And then Alina watches, mouth agape, as Genya strolls away with the exact smugness of someone who had just been personally invited to a royal ball. Alina’s back hits the soft cover beneath her as she tilts her head to stare at her wardrobe.

“A royal ball?” She whispers to herself.

It’s just as hard to believe when Genya tries her best to explain everything to Alina as they speed through town later that morning. Genya is almost a foot ahead of Alina, both her longer legs and determination to get to the seamstress in time carrying her at a faster speed than Alina can manage. It also means at least half of what Genya said dissipates into the air before it can actually reach Alina’s ears–so by the time they reach the seamstress, sweat building on Alina’s brow and a bright flush staining Genya’s cheeks, Alina is still completely clueless. 

Genya pushes the door open and frowns at the queue of people that almost loops around the waiting room. She pushes up onto her toes, grabbing tightly onto Alina’s shoulder for balance, and stretches her neck to try and peer over the crowd. It takes roughly a minute for Genya to find whoever she is looking for–but as soon as she does, Genya dives into the crowd, leaving Alina to rub her shoulder and stare around the shop in peace. The window displays are lined with a myriad of beautiful dresses and intricate accessories: personalised handkerchiefs, bright hairpieces, delicate gloves. Alina moves closer to one of the displays, drawn to a handkerchief tucked into the corner that has little suns embroidered around the edges–but her view is suddenly blocked by an almost _bouncing_ Genya.

“You know,” Alina begins as she straightens up, the hand that had been clutching at her shoulder dropping to rest at her side. “If you had any more energy you’d be climbing the walls.”

“And that would be a wonderful sight I’m sure anyone would pay to see.” Her hand latches onto Alina’s wrist and before she has the chance to respond, Genya tugs Alina through the forever growing queue of customers. _Angry_ customers. Angry customers who are clearly very aware that Alina and Genya are essentially cutting the queue.

“Genya, I think you just placed a death warrant on our backs.” Alina hisses as an elbow jabs into her side. Accidental or not, Alina’s sure it was pointy enough to leave a bruise. 

“Kat owes me a favour. If they’re annoyed, they can take it up with her.”

“What do you mean she owes you a favour?” Genya comes to a sudden stop as soon as they enter a much emptier room, and Alina almost stumbles straight into her back. “Genya-”.

“That is between your sister and me, I’m afraid.” Alina, stepping out from the cover of Genya’s back, watches as an elegant woman, perhaps a few years younger than Genya’s mother, steps into the room. Perfect, save for the pencil shoved through the bun on top of her head and the soft, grey graphite smudges following the curve of her cheek. Though her lips are pursed and her hand rests on a cocked hip, her eyes are kind as she looks at the both of them. “Now, if you want to have your measurements taken before the rabble outside storms in, I’d be quick.”

She doesn’t have to repeat herself.

Both Genya and Alina hurry into the room but as soon as they enter, Genya shoves Alina in front of the mirror and claims the small loveseat for herself. Alina only manages to cast Genya a quick glare before her coat is being stripped from her shoulders and she’s, much more gently, pushed behind the screen so that she can strip down to her underclothes. Within minutes her measurements are taken, fabric upon fabric is being draped upon her shoulders, and needles are being prodded far too closely to her skin. Genya knows it’s her least favourite part of shopping for new dresses; she’s never been too keen on being a human pin cushion. And neither has Genya–which is exactly why Alina was pushed rapidly into the centre first.

Katarina is gentle enough, but Alina knows that if she draws blood it will be Alina’s fault for ‘moving’–so she stands as still as possible, and tries her best not to look too miserable. 

Over by the far wall, next to a large rack of dresses and miscellaneous fabric, Genya leans forwards in her seat. She watches the process carefully, making the odd comment on the different materials, noting which colours would suit Alina best. Used to soft pastels, Alina almost chokes when Genya suggests the gold.

“Absolutely not.” She mutters as Katarina tuts.

“But it will look lovely on you.” Genya all but whines, glancing over to Katarina for help. Alina’s frown deepens when Katarina nods.

“She’s right. Gold does suit you–in fact, I think I have fabric out back that will be perfect.” Just as Katarina dashes off, Genya stands–and Alina backs away. The minute Alina looks her in the eye she _knows_ Genya will pout or work whatever magic she has on Alina, and Alina will–reluctantly–agree. 

“Alina, think about it. You’ll look like something out of a fairy tale!”

Now standing by the window that looks out onto the street, Alina scoffs. Her arms find their way across her chest and she knows she must look the epitome of petulant, but she doesn’t care. 

“It will look gaudy, Genya. And anyway, I still don’t understand why this ball has come out of nowhere. I understand why it’s exciting, and I understand why you want to look your best–I do too, really–but the timing is suspicious. Why _now?_ The day after this murder? A murder people are beginning to think wasn’t even committed by an animal, let alone a human. Part of me really does think that this is all one big distraction from something, and I–” As she speaks, Alina’s gaze drifts to the shop opposite–only to stop on the figure of a man; tall, a dark silhouette with the sharp angles of his jacket. Then he turns, and Alina freezes. The shop is some distance away, but Alina still recognises the sharp cut of his jaw and the pale flush to his cheeks. The way he tilts his head as he peers into the shop display is all too familiar. 

A part of Alina, along the periphery of her mind, recognises that Genya is touching the fabric on her shoulders, likely trying to convince Alina that gold really would suit her if she’d just give it a chance–but Alina can’t focus on anything but the man across the street. It’s as if only he is in focus and everything else is an insignificant blur.

There’s a hunger for answers in the pit of her stomach that is too deep to ignore, and his appearance is too much of a coincidence to simply forget, so, within seconds, Alina is ripping away from Genya, pushing through the crowd in the other room, and erupting onto the bustling street. Samples of fabric hang off her shoulders and waist in shreds but Alina doesn’t stop to even consider how strange she must look. Her mind is on one singular goal: find the man, get some answers, and do not give up. Someone bumps into Alina as she runs and she tumbles, only just managing to catch herself on a random lamp post, and, for a moment, Alina feels the disappointment sinking deep in her chest as she thinks she’s lost him. But her rapid searching does her a small favour, and she catches the tail of his coat disappearing behind a corner. 

With a sudden burst of energy, Alina picks up her skirts in tight fists and rushes towards the street he had turned down. Her searching becomes more panicked as time stretches on. She almost feels ridiculous, putting so much hope on a single man that she hasn’t even properly met. But that night plays like a loop in her head, a memory she feels she will never be able to suppress. It’s the knowing look he had in his eyes, the tilt of his head as he passed, how her body and blood seemed to _sing_ in his presence. Alina has never been one to give up–and now certainly isn’t the time to start. Just as Alina turns another corner that she had blindly chosen, the heat in her chest growing with both frustration and desperation, she runs into someone. Her immediate reaction is to frown, but apologise–but then she catches the coat, the flash of grey eyes as he looks away, and her body seems to separate from her mind and gain a consciousness all of its own. Fingers wrap in the dark fabric of his sleeve and tug until he turns to face her. Alina can almost feel herself reeling under the full intensity of his gaze, but her grip stays strong and she steps a little further into his space. She won’t let him slip away this time. Especially when there are no shadows to step into.

No shock registers on his face; there’s no parting of his lips, no tension in his jaw. He only lets his eyes wander briefly down her figure–not predatory, just curiosity bordering on distaste. His lips purse slightly when he spots the swatches of fabric haphazardly pinned to her dress, but he still doesn’t step away. Which is a blessing. Alina had visions of having to launch herself at him to make him stay, and that isn’t exactly something she wants the general public to witness.

“I have questions.”

He quickly glances down at the fingers that are still latching tightly onto his sleeve and raises a single eyebrow. But Alina doesn’t let go–instead, she takes a slight step closer. 

“Tell me why you were there last night.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” 

“Don’t insult my intelligence,” Alina hisses at his dismissal, fingers winding even tighter. “Nor my determination. Even if I don’t understand what I saw, I know I saw something. And it wasn’t normal–none of it.” 

“You believe you have the right to that information?” 

Alina feels her shoulders tense and teeth grit together. She doesn’t think she’s ever come across a man so infuriating, not even in Genya’s father’s social circle–and they tend to push her buttons nearly to the point of breaking.

“I found the body, I’ve seen it up close. I saw you there last night, slinking and _blending_ into the shadows,” she explains quietly, paying no mind to the few people that walk past and cast the both of them curious looks. “But something is wrong with me too. My body hums when I’m near that corpse, I’m drawn to it. And I need help. I need _your_ help.” Alina then takes a step away, her gaze now focused on the palms of her hands. Though not as strong as the night before, the buzzing warmth is still there, fluctuating with each step she takes towards and away from the man before her. He watches her quietly as he slowly smooths out the crinkles in his sleeve. 

“Nothing is wrong with you.” His words feel like a shot to her chest, just narrowly missing her lungs.

“What do you mean?” It seems completely unbelievable to her because _of course_ there’s something wrong with her. Ordinary people don’t feel drawn to murder scenes like that. They don’t feel drawn to the inhumane or monstrous, and they certainly don’t have this same warmth humming in their ears or rushing through their veins.

“It feels right, doesn’t it?” The man takes a step forward and gently takes her palm in his. Leather-clad fingertips smooth over warm skin, almost tracing the lines of her palm and the veins he can’t quite see. “It feels just as natural as anger, or joy, or guilt.” And then, just as quickly as he had taken it, he drops her hand and retreats backward a couple of steps. His expression seems to shutter down even further, with his eyes glancing away from Alina to nod at a passing couple and his fingers tugging deliberately at his gloves.

“Alina Starkov,” Alina states before he can retreat fully. Let him know her name. Let her occupy his thoughts just as much as he occupies hers. Let her offer him this so that he must offer something next–something that will hopefully be answers to her many questions.

Although he’s been completely useless so far with those lips that seem permanently sealed.

“Miss Starkov.” His lips try her name quietly, rolling the syllables over his tongue and letting them hover in the air between them before finally giving his own in return. “Aleksander Morozova–but no, I still won’t be telling you what you want to know.”

And then he turns, not even giving Alina the chance to at least look him in the eye while she desperately tries to convince him otherwise.

“Mister Morozova! At least face me while you deny me the truth,” she hisses, not even bothering to run after him this time. If her words have no effect, then nothing will. “Or was I mistaken in presuming you were a gentleman?”

Aleksander halts, simply staring ahead for a few seconds. Alina imagines he’s toying with the idea of walking away and leaving her there instead of turning to talk to her further, but if there’s something that will work on almost any man of high society, it’s insulting his gentlemanly honour. No matter how annoyingly stubborn she may be, Aleksander will now at least feel obliged to give her a somewhat reasonable excuse.

Slowly, he turns, no sign of frustration except for the very slight narrow of his eyes. How the man remains so nonchalant Alina doesn’t know. She can’t but help but wear every single emotion on her face, clear as daylight. It wouldn’t feel natural to suppress it all.

“I have other responsibilities, Miss Starkov. I don’t have the time to tend to your needs as well.”

“Other responsibilities? Like the body–or whatever it was that murdered the poor man?”

“You’re speaking rather loudly.” He reprimands in a low, deadpan voice, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Let me help you.”

The words almost seem to echo _despite_ the continuous stream of people milling past them. Aleksander is completely silent. Alina can’t tell if he wants to laugh or growl at her proposition.

“No.”

“I can _help–_ ”

A sudden wave of warmth hits Alina in her chest, quickly followed by a slow stream of disgust. It digs into her ribs just like before–and she almost thinks nothing of it until she sees the combination of concern and morbid curiosity drawing across Aleksander’s features.

“Miss Starkov?”

“Something is wrong.”

And then hits the scream, loud and shrill and oh, so familiar. 

_Genya._

Alina doesn’t just run, she _sprints._ Her hands wrap tightly in her skirts, tugging them above her ankles so that she can raise her legs higher and run faster. Faintly, she acknowledges the footsteps running after her, realises it must be Aleksander, and then pushes that thought aside. She doesn’t stop until she sees the crowd, and even then pushes through with her fists and elbows in full force. As soon as Alina breaks through relief buds in her chest. Genya does sit on the floor, arms wrapped around herself and speaking softly to a police officer–but she isn’t hurt. And when Alina speeds towards her, strides strong and sure, Genya looks up and her face almost crumbles. It isn’t normal to see Genya like this. It isn’t normal for things to bother her so much–but Alina doesn’t think about it too much because, as soon as Genya is in her arms, both kneeling on the hard ground, all Alina can think of is keeping her sister safe.

“Alina, I thought it was _you_ ,” Genya whispers into her neck as tears slowly drip and run down to her shoulder. 

Alina only gathers Genya into her arms tighter, fingers digging into the fabric of her dress–but she does look to where the police officers are beginning to gather. Between their feet she can just make out a small shape–a hand, small and pale, covered in black ink and laying next to a head of dark brown hair. It’s easy to see why Genya thought it was her.

Guilt, harsh and deep, lands in her gut then. Genya had gone looking for _her_. If she hadn’t run off, Genya wouldn’t have had to find the second body. 

A presence then looms over the pair of them–but Alina doesn’t have to look around to know who it is. His name settles on her tongue and her blood calls out to him. All she wants to do is cry and scream, yell at Aleksander for refusing to let her help, for refusing to tell her all that he knows. Instead, she rests her head gently on Genya’s and closes her eyes.

“Meet me at the library tomorrow. You owe me answers–and I won’t stop pursuing you until I get them.”

She doesn’t even watch him leave. Her only focus is on Genya, and bringing down the _monster_ that has decided to cause her city so much pain.


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was one of the hardest to write for me, because it felt like the chapter with the least amount happening but it's also necessary to help the plot progress. Either way, I'm pretty happy with how it turned out AND the chapter after this is another one of my four favourites - so happy reading!

The city library is a large, beautiful building, made of polished stone that almost glistens in the morning light and is built so tall that it looms over most other buildings, save for the Royal Palace. Hundreds of people each day stream in and out of the library doors, decorated with the eagle seal of the monarchy and just as imposing as the library itself. Despite the number of people that visit daily, and despite the restrictions on talking and any volume above a soft whisper, it is still the best place to meet anyone when the subject of conversation is a little… _risque_ , thanks to the disguise of simply discussing a novel or perhaps some more contemporary poetry. There’s also all of the little nooks and crannies, tucked between shelves and hidden around corners. Most of which Alina has discovered.

Thanks to Mal.

It’s also one of the only places in the city where no one would bat an eyelid at seeing Alina alone with a man who is a stranger in all but name; it’s an academic setting, purely formal in all situations. 

And it’s not exactly as if discussing the brutal murder of a policeman is going to lead to anything other than the continuous presence of disgust. 

As soon as Alina and Genya step out of the carriage–something Genya’s mother had insisted they take to avoid either of them discovering yet another brutalised corpse–Alina feels the butterflies in her stomach morph into a violent stampede. It’s not just nerves and the anticipation of finally receiving some answers, no matter how vague, it’s knowing that there is no going back from this. If she steps into that library, she fully acknowledges that something within her is not fully human. If she carefully treads up those stairs, even stares at the cover of the book, she admits that she wants that part of her to be real. There’s no ignoring it from here on. Aleksander will provide her with the information she wants, and she will have to live with that information–no matter how unsettling it proves to be.

Alina had tried her best to convince Genya not to join her; she’d slept in Alina’s bed, curled into her side, and had woken with dark circles under her usually crystal clear eyes. But seeing a corpse for herself seems to have only spurred her on–and Alina understands, she truly does, but the thought of Genya getting hurt is almost too much to bear.

The library, even with its busy entranceway, is reasonably quiet thanks to the sheer size of the place. It’s only then, while Alina glances up at the large domed ceiling and the labyrinth of bookshelves, that she realises she hadn’t actually told Aleksander where to meet her. 

“You look a little lost,” Genya remarks from beside her, though she is looking at the several different floors with the same exasperation as Alina. “If what you’ve said holds true, I doubt he’ll have trouble finding you. Maybe he’ll cast a spell. Get out a wand.”

“ _Genya._ ” 

The soft shake of Genya’s shoulders gives her amusement away, even if laughter doesn’t actually slip from her lips. Alina purses her lips as Genya sends a soft smile her way. There’s a slight stab, close to her heart, when her eyes drop to the shadows still present beneath Genya’s eyes, but she still rolls her eyes when Genya’s smile widens.

“Come on. We might as well take a stroll while we wait for Sir Magician to appear.”

“Be quiet,” Alina scolds just as they begin to walk deeper into the library’s halls. Genya does fall into a comforting silence, although Alina knows it has more to do with the calming aura of the library than any of Alina’s reprimands. 

Walking the halls of the library has always seemed to have some sort of calming effect on anyone who visits. People will enter manically, desperately in a rush to find some novel or essay for academic research, only to settle within a few minutes of stepping into the place. Alina had spent hours of hours curled up against a shelf somewhere, reading all of the novels she could manage–usually something about fairies or goblins or anything that was even the slightest bit magical. A part of her had always hoped there was a genuine magic about the place. Perhaps a spell or ward designed to calm anyone that took even a single step beyond its imposing doors. It’s odd that it now seems perfectly plausible. If a man can walk comfortably into the shadows, what’s to stop entire buildings being magical too?

Slowly, Genya comes to a halt by a few shelves filled with multiple poem anthologies, all leather-bound and a few painted with painfully intricate symbols. A single finger traces over the different spines that line the shelf, her eyes slowly following in its wake. She stops at a spine decorated with vines and flowers–and a small, delicate fairy in the top corner.

“I didn’t take you for a lover of fantasy-themed poetry.” 

Genya only fixes Alina with a pointed look, her lips pulling into a soft smirk.

“Stories tend to be filled with some truth, no matter how fantastical. Poetry is the same. If whatever this _thing_ is actually isn’t human, there could be references in these texts, no matter how subtle.”

“If I had even a portion of your mind–”

“You’d be ten times smarter than I am,” Alina scoffs at Genya’s compliment, who only laughs in return–and then chokes when a loud hiss to be quiet comes from the other side of the shelf. Alina has to bite her lip to stop her own laughter from breaking the calm silence. By the time she stops laughing, Genya has tears in her eyes and Alina clutches a hand to her stomach. “Look, stop laughing and go find that fairytale novel of yours. I’ll come to find you in a bit.”

Alina takes a few steps backwards, grinning as Genya wipes at her eyes.

“Don’t break any rules while I’m gone. I’d hate to miss out on the fun.”

She turns before she can see whatever rude gesture Genya is probably throwing at her back. Laughter still bubbles around in her lungs as she leisurely follows the shelves to the corner of the library that she knows best. 

The little corner of the library that contains texts on anything related to fairy tales or the supernatural sits directly in front of a window that overlooks almost the entirety of the west side of the city. The bookshelves are placed on either side of the glass so that the soft light can easily shine through, and the large, round table sits comfortably in its rays. Compared to the areas of the library that hold scientific literature and medical journals, Alina’s little paradise is usually empty. Sometimes the odd poet may come by, or someone who believes they’d seen a fairy darting around their garden that very morning–but it’s always quiet. 

It’s one of the many reasons why Alina loves it so much.

Her fingers run across the spines of the different books and journals. She’s read most of the books on these shelves–it’s not exactly a genre that’s in high demand, especially not with science, and the fear of it, on the rise–but Alina isn’t looking for something new to devour, she’s looking for something hidden amongst what she already knows. If this creature truly is a being of magic then there must be something about it. Someone must have seen something similar once, writing about it before they could be convinced it was just a figment of their imagination.

Not that Alina knows what to look for, not exactly anyway. Her only lead is that it is vicious, and leaves behind a trail of black ink every time–a creature of darkness, driven by some deep need to maim and kill.

Within a few minutes, Alina has pulled multiple books from the shelf. They lay strewn across the table, open on different pages, diagrams and sketches staring up at the ceiling. Each sketch is familiar–too familiar. There is nothing new, no sudden epiphany, or information just _clicking_ together. She feels like she’s missing something. Something important and glaringly obvious that she can’t quite reach. It’s there, just out of her touch, tickling the edge of her fingertips; a spot in her periphery that no matter how many times she turns to look–it disappears.

“Those books won’t help you.” 

Alina shoots up and slams the book she’d been holding shut. Standing by the entrance is Aleksander, hat in his hands and that same, irritatingly nonchalant expression plastered across his face. She glances down at the book in her hands and frowns. 

“It’s not as if I have anything else to go by.” 

“It’s not the books, per se.” Aleksander steps further into the room, placing his hat down gently on the table and draping his coat over the back of a chair. “ At the moment, you’re looking at these books through a human gaze.” 

He runs his fingers over one of the diagrams on the table. It’s of a fairy; eyes narrowed, lips pulled into a mischievous tilt, and beautiful, pointed wings sticking out from the bare expanse of its back; it sits carefully on a lilypad, its feet just dipping into the water and its eyes staring out of the page, almost as if beckoning the reader to join them. It’s curious, really, how often water is mentioned within the books. Sometimes as a force for healing, and others as a force of destruction. Either way, these creatures seem to be inextricably linked. 

As Alina watches Aleksander pour over the books, she sets down the book in her hand and moves a step closer, almost peering over his shoulder.

“Are you going to tell me why you were there the other night?” she says softly. There’s no one else near enough to disrupt if she speaks loudly, but she doesn’t want to break his concentration. The moment feels too fragile.

Aleksander’s body seizes up. Alina takes a small step back again. He doesn’t sigh, but she can still feel his desire to. It only makes Alina want to pressure him more.

“Not yet.”

“But you said–”

“I said I would feed you information, Miss Starkov.” He doesn’t even look over his shoulder at her. Alina narrows her eyes and wonders how much a book to the head would hurt. “Whether it is useful to you or not isn’t of any consequence to me. Besides, you’ve merely dipped your toe into the magical realm. I’m not going to throw you into the sea before you can swim.”

“Meaning?” Alina scoffs, now debating which book on the table is the heaviest and likely to do the most damage.

“Meaning there are basics you must understand first. These books feed you false information, and if this is what the entirety of your current knowledge is based on–then we are better off acting as if you know nothing.”

“Tell me then. Stop edging around the subject.”

“I’d be able to if you stopped asking questions every two seconds.”

“I have an inquisitive mind.” 

Aleksander looks at her then, a slight tick at the corner of his eye giving Alina much more satisfaction than it really should. Antagonsing him wasn’t her aim today, but it’s all too tempting to forgo. His eyes have also darkened, likely in frustration–and Alina finds herself smiling at him. He looks away for a second, back down at the book, before gesturing her over with the slightest movement of his fingers. Alina briefly considers breaking them off but steps forwards anyway. Aleksander makes enough room for her to stand beside him.

“Tell me what you see.” 

Alina glances at him with a flurry of questions ready to slip from her lips, but one, steady look from Aleksander has her closing her mouth almost immediately. She still allows herself to frown though.

Slowly, Alina looks down at the diagram of the fairy. It’s the same as it was a few minutes ago, the same as it has always been. Alina just shrugs.

“Pretty wings, mischievous smile, dainty little hands and arms and everything else. The standard fairy, I presume.”

“And this one?”

Aleksander pulls another book towards them, though this time it’s a detailed sketch of a goblin type figure, it’s arms full of a myriad of delicious fruits.

“Pointed nose, ears. Tempts ‘wayward women’ with fruits.” Aleksander falls silent at Alina’s comment, fingers tapping gently on the table. Disappointment seems to roll off him in waves and Alina can do nothing but bristle. She described them exactly–she could describe them off by heart, with the book closed and a blindfold tied around her eyes. “Was I wrong?” Alina watches as he stands straight and takes a turn about the room, his eyes running along the different books and only stopping when he reaches the window.

“No. Not exactly.”

“I don’t understand.” 

The view outside holds Aleksander’s attention for several seconds, one hand tucked behind his back and the other running across the pillow of his bottom lip. A mixture of boredom and frustration hits Alina quickly, so she soon slips into a chair and begins to flick absentmindedly through one of the many books all while resisting the urge to knock Aleksander’s coat onto the floor. 

“You wouldn’t.” He finally speaks but doesn’t step away from the window. “There is something about the human mind that adores willful ignorance. It ignores what it doesn’t want to see. Reversing that… it can take training and time, or all it can take is one moment of forced epiphany, so to speak.”

“So, my brain is altering my perception of the world around me?” Aleksander looks at her then, and Alina wonders if she is imagining the slight, barely-there curve to his lips. 

“Exactly. Including those books. What you see is what you want to see. Pretty little pictures or creatures born in fantasy, rather than what they truly are… Do you experience headaches?” 

“No, not headaches.”

“Dreams?”

Alina nods, but Aleksander doesn’t say anything else on the matter. He just peers out of the window again, eyes narrowed and fingers tracing the curve of his chin as if he is figuring out some sort of puzzle–which he essentially is. His fall back into silence leaves Alina to her own devices, so she looks back down at the diagrams and sketches and begins to imagine exactly what these creatures look like. The thought of them being real, sharing the same city, same streets as Alina, sends a thrilling spark into her heart as that soft, heady feeling of wonderment begins to build in her chest. Perhaps jagged teeth, skin a slightly sickly colour, but with bright, narrowed eyes and silken hair that combines the macabre with something beautiful. Something completely otherworldly. 

Aleksander soon shatters the peace.

“Come to the ballet with me.”

Alina looks up instantly, not knowing whether to agree or demand he stop joking.

“Excuse me?”

“Tomorrow night. The Lantsov theatre is hosting a ballet,” Aleksander explains as he moves closer, both hands now tucked behind his back. “I promise it will be worth your while.”

It certainly isn’t the most romantic offer she’s ever heard, and every time she considers agreeing, even for the briefest of moments, Alina feels Mal’s phantom fingers trailing down her back, his lips brushing the curved edge of her jaw…

But she needs that information, and if joining Aleksander is the only way to get it, then she will just have to push Mal to the back of her mind for a single night.

“Okay.” Alina nods. “I’ll join you.”

“It looks like you’ve both had a productive time.” Alina spins in her seat, heart racing in her chest and excuses bursting at the seam of her lips. Genya stands at the entrance, hands on her hips and eyes zeroed in on Aleksander. Alina wants to disagree, wants to complain about how the man has lips as tightly locked as a safe and the charm of a wet rag–but she doesn’t. Instead, Alina closes the book in front of her softly and stands, nodding as she does so.

“As productive as one can be when dealing with a complete mystery, I suppose.”

“Good,” Genya hums as she glances at the pile of open books on the table. “Because we need to leave. I promised mother we’d be back in time for a late lunch. Some of her friends are visiting and she wants to show us off. I’m sure Mister Morozova wouldn’t mind putting the books back–would you, sir?”

Each word is as pointed as a dagger and hits with startling accuracy–but Aleksander only smiles. It’s polite, but somehow holds less warmth than Genya’s own. Even his eyes have taken on a chill. Alina simply watches on with a morbid curiosity.

“Of course I don’t mind.” He takes a step to Alina then, allowing him to get close enough to carefully take her hand in his and brush his lips across her knuckles. Alina feels her breath lodge in her throat. “Tomorrow then, Miss Starkov.”

“Yes. Tomorrow.”

As soon as he releases her hand Genya bursts into action, gently placing her hand on Alina’s back and guiding her towards the exit. Alina can feel Aleksander’s eyes on them until they turn the corner, practically burning into the skin of her back and causing chills to run down her spine.

The walk back through the library is filled with stiff silence. Alina can tell Genya is frustrated at the least, angry at most. She also knows it isn’t her exactly that Genya is angry at, more the situation–more Aleksander. Her hand stays at Alina’s back in a protective gesture that is all too familiar to Alina. 

“Genya–”

“When we’re outside, okay? I need to think for now.” 

They both fall into silence again, and it isn’t until they hit the bottom of the stairs outside that Genya finally turns to face Alina and speaks,“I don’t like him.”

“I’m not exactly in love with the man either.”

“Alina–”

“But we need him, Genya. _I_ need him.” It must be the desperation in Alina’s voice that makes Genya’s severe facade fade because within the next few seconds Genya is running her hands through her hair and she suddenly looks incredibly tired. 

“I won’t lie, I’m worried. He’s dangerous. He’s helping you for a reason we don’t know, and now he’s asking you to the ballet?”

“So you heard,” Alina mumbles as she scratches at her neck lightly, leaving trails of red in her wake.

“Yes, I heard,” Genya mutters back, before lightly tapping Alina’s hand away from her neck. “I don’t like it.”

“Anything else you don’t like?”

Alina raises her hands in surrender at Genya’s following glare, before stepping further into Genya’s space.

“Genya, I don’t like it either. But this is important. He’s the only person who may know anything about what’s going on here–with the murders, and with me.” Genya’s teeth work furiously at her lip while her fingers twirl a curl of her hair anxiously at the same time. “This is important. _Please_.” Alina might as well be on her hands and knees at this point, with her hands wrapped in Genya’s skirt and eyes as wide and pleading as they can possibly be. But she stays standing, watching as Genya silently battles between logic and emotion. The roll of Genya’s eyes is a welcome one.

Logic, and Alina, have won. 

“Fine. _Fine_.” Genya ignores Alina’s grin and instead begins to walk in the direction of their home. Alina rushes to catch up with her, knowing that there’s no point in asking Genya to wait, and can’t help the slight spring in her step. Getting Genya to cave isn’t something that happens often–even if Alina is the only person who has ever managed to push her into that corner. Knowing what buttons to push just happens to be a helpful consequence of being Genya’s sister. “I hope you realise you have no say in what you’re wearing tomorrow night, though. If you’re going to put your life in danger, you’re at least going to look magnificent while you do it.”

“Oh, _Genya_.” Alina sighs softly as she swiftly loops her arm through Genya’s who–thankfully–doesn’t try to pull away. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another favourite of mine!! This one was was a lot of fun to write, and especially exciting to get to since it has the scene I first used for my gvbb proposal.

“Genya! Too. _Tight_.” 

The evening after the library visit is hardly a peaceful one; Alina stands with her arms extended, leaning heavily against the wall beside her mirror, as Genya tugs at the strings of her corset until her lungs are screaming for breath. She can practically feel her ribs pushing in closer and her organs shifting around. It doesn’t matter how many times Alina wears a corset, it will never be a pleasant experience–especially when Genya happens to be the one doing the tightening. 

“This isn’t even as tight as it will go.”

“Don’t you dare,” Alina manages to wheeze out as Genya experimentally pulls on the laces again. “ _Genya!_ ”

“I’m sorry.” But she isn’t–not in the slightest. Alina glares over her shoulder and pulls a face when Genya looks up with innocently wide eyes and a shark’s smile. Slowly, Alina looks back to the wall and tests how much she can breathe with a soft wince.

“If I’m going into _danger_ surely I need more room to breathe.” She closes her eyes then, fully prepared to deal with Genya’s retaliation and the even further tightening of her corset–but it doesn’t come. Instead, Genya hums and Alina feels the corset become less constricted. It’s a relief, even if it is only a marginal one.

“Okay, but if it ruins the line of the dress, don’t come crying to me.”

While Alina runs a hand across the cinched shape of her waist, poking and prodding to see if she can actually feel any of her ribs pushing into her skin, Genya dances around the room, swiping up a dress from Alina’s bed and tugging out the chair at Alina’s vanity all in one movement. 

“Stop it.” Alina’s hands immediately snap away from where they’d been sneakily playing with the laces at her back. “You can go back to your poor excuse of a corset tomorrow–now put your arms up. We haven’t got all evening.” 

Within seconds the dress is carefully pulled over Alina’s head and quickly buttoned. Alina scowls as she gently spins in front of the mirror.

“Red. Really? I’m not some seductress, Genya.”

“It’s a ballet, Alina. Which means stepping out of your comfort zone when it comes to what you wear.” Alina glances back at the mirror. Genya, infuriatingly as ever, is right. Her ordinary pastel range of dresses won’t cut it–and she hasn’t been living under a rock for the past ten years. The Lantsov theatre is prestigious, and not just in name; there are blush red carpets everywhere, and the walls are lined with accents of gold. And besides, the red doesn’t look bad at all. “There’s nothing wrong with putting powers of seduction to use anyway, as long as you’re safe.”  
“He doesn’t strike me as the sort of man that falls for that kind of trick.” _Not that I’d be able to persuade him like that, anyway,_ Alina thinks. One last glance in the mirror, and then Alina is slowly slipping into the seat Genya had pulled out for her earlier. 

The vanity is a bit of a mess, in all honesty. Different pins lay scattered across the table and various ribbons are strung over the mirror. Genya has done her best to organise what she can, but they both know it will take a much more thorough perusal to actually clean it up. From the pile, Genya has chosen small, silver pins with little black gems on the end that seem to shine like onyx. They’re beautiful–and something Alina hasn’t ever had the chance to wear before.

“Either way, you’re going to look beautiful tonight.” 

Laying next to the pile of pins are a pair of beautiful diamond earrings. They’re relatively small, at least compared to some of the colossal pairs she’s seen some women wear, but with the way Genya is gathering her hair up into a high bun, everyone will be able to see the way they glint in the soft lantern light. 

“Nervous?” The question takes Alina off guard. She’d been so focused on the task at hand– _humour Aleksander Morozova, be the decoration on his arm for the evening, squeeze some more answers out of him_ –that she hadn’t taken the time to consider how she felt. Alina fiddles with a pin for a brief, quiet moment, before sighing and raising her eyes to meet Genya’s in the mirror. 

“The butterflies in my stomach feel more like a stampede. I’m worried this will all be for nothing. And Mal–”

“You’re not doing this because you want to see other people, Alina. You’re doing it because you need to. And Mal… this is a delicate and unusual situation. Something is happening to you, for better and for worse, and it isn’t something you should rush into telling him.” Pins begin to slip into Alina’s hair, sometimes scraping gently against her scalp. “When you do tell him, _if_ you tell him–he likely won't understand. Especially since spending intimate time with another man was a necessity. But he’ll come around eventually.”

When the last pin slots into place Genya takes a step back and smiles. With Genya watching her fondly, Alina slowly picks up the earrings and pushes them into her ears. They complete the image of a sophisticated woman. It feels foreign.

“Just a little rouge on your cheeks and lips and I think we’ll be done. Are you ready to go?”

Alina sits still as she looks into the mirror–and after taking a deep breath, she straightens. Her posture rights itself and her neck elongates as her chin lifts.

“Yes,” she breathes, watching as the earrings swing slightly with each move of her head. “I’m ready.”

Night air bites at Alina’s arms, the shawl not quite doing enough to shield her, as she places her hand in Aleksander’s and steps out of the carriage. After deeming Alina perfect to go, it hadn’t been long before Aleksander’s carriage pulled up outside the house and Alina had made her way outside. She didn’t give him the chance to knock on the door and greet her as a gentleman usually would. Assuring her pseudo-parents that there would be a chaperone, fully aware that Aleksander hadn’t mentioned anything of the sort, meant that she didn’t want Aleksander to meet the pair of them and give anything away. Not that he appears to be the type of person that falters easily under any type of investigation, but Alina still didn’t want to risk it.

The carriage ride itself was quiet, if not a little tense. Alina had peered out of the window, watching the familiar streets go by all while ignoring every moment Aleksander had his eyes on her. He looks dashing, for lack of better words. His usual dark suit had been upgraded to something as equally bespoke, but made of an even finer material. Aleksander had gone to great lengths this evening–even the carriage wasn’t an ordinary, simple affair–and Alina isn’t completely sure why.

A steady stream of people, dressed to the nines in both bright colours and dark suits, climb the sleek, stone steps up to the entrance of the theatre. With Alina’s hand resting comfortably on Aleksander’s arm, they begin to follow the crowd–but as soon as they reach the landing, Aleksander pulls them to the left, towards a lavishly decorated passage leading towards another pair of stairs. Alina glances back at the rest of the crowd, frowning in confusion as they mostly lead off to the right, towards the main seating area of the theatre.

“Shouldn’t we be following them?” 

Aleksander doesn’t answer. Alina decides to let it go. The few other couples that follow them settle her nerves slightly; they likely just have a box, which doesn’t surprise Alina in the slightest. She can’t imagine Aleksander enjoying sitting at the bottom amongst the _rabble._

Then Aleksander pushes the curtain aside, and Alina comes to a sudden halt. 

It’s a box, that’s for certain, but it isn’t just any box. The balcony is decorated with a gold rim, the floor is lush, red carpet, and the Lantsov crest sits proudly on the wall.

“Aleks–Mister Morozova, how on _Earth-_ ”

“I called in a favour,” he explains quietly, voice deadpan and expression stoic, as he carefully guides Alina towards her seat. Even the chairs feel like sitting on clouds.

“You know someone in the palace?”

“I have an acquaintance.”

Alina glances at Aleksander out of the corner of her eye as she adjusts the shawl around her shoulders. He stares down at the red curtains, lavishly embroidered with golden swirls and suns, as if the currently hidden stage is more interesting than the companion beside him. 

“I’m sure you’ve memorised it by now.” 

The looks he sends her is slightly confused, even if the rest of his expression remains in its careful nonchalance. Alina nods towards the curtain and bites down on her smile when his eyes narrow and his lips ever so slightly turn downwards.

“So,” she begins as she leans back into her seat, arms resting comfortably on the arms of the chair. “Why exactly are we here? Ballet doesn’t exactly seem to be your choice of entertainment.”

“I appreciate the skill,” he explains–but then continues speaking before Alina can interrupt. “This is a lesson.”

“A lesson? Are we here to scout?”

“Not quite. I’ll explain more when the curtain rises.”

“Talking during the performance is considered rude, you know.”

Alina experiences an odd feeling of satisfaction when the corner of his lips quirks upwards slightly. For a moment, so brief she can almost pretend it didn’t happen, Alina lets herself imagine what a true smile of his would be like. She hopes it would be crooked, unsymmetrical–so unlike the rest of him.

“That’s why we have a box, Miss Starkov.”

“The royal box.” The words still feel heavy in her mouth.

“The royal box indeed.”

Then the music begins to play, and a heavy blanket of silence falls over the auditorium. The anticipation in Alina’s chest builds in tandem with the music, and her heart races as the curtain slowly begins to rise. A single figure steps out onto the stage, draped in white and silver and moving so elegantly Alina feels as though she is watching something magical take place. More dancers soon join the lone one, turning and moving across the stage on the very tips of their toes. 

“I need you to do exactly as I say.”

Alina doesn’t realise how closely Aleksander is leaning until the hushed words brush past her ear. She frowns, reluctantly pulling her gaze away from the stage and captivating performance.  
“Well, I can’t make any promises–”

“Alina,” Aleksander breathes. He sounds exasperated, and it’s the first time Alina has heard him sound anything but certain. “Trust me.”

She holds her breath for what feels like minutes, before nodding.

“Okay.”

All of a sudden, Aleksander seems to come to life like a puppet pulled at its strings. He sits on the edge of his chair, eyes widened, and fingers clutching at the arm of his chair until they’re white with tension.

“Watch closely. Just outside of your periphery–that is where this all hides. In the corner of your vision, your mind, that space that humans rarely look.” 

He speaks softly, leaning in so that his voice can be heard over the crescendo. She meets his eyes for a moment, unsure whether she should trust his instructions–but there’s a hunger in his gaze, a need for her to look for herself. To truly understand.

So Alina takes a deep breath, breaks eye contact, and focuses on the space next to the chorus of dancers. 

“Now look–the woman at the side. Watch as she leaps.” 

Cynicism wrestles with hope as Alina glances out of the corner of her eye. She almost believes that this is a scam–some man ready to play with the girl that has always wanted faeries–light and dark–to be real. 

But then she sees the slight blur around the dancer’s legs as they split in the air. It is too subtle for the ordinary eye to notice, so quick that she hadn’t even missed a beat–but it was there. A leap so gentle, held for a millisecond longer than any trained dancer could manage. Almost as if she were hovering. Alina feels a spark in her chest, and her hands grip at the arms of the seat as she continues to watch in disbelief. The longer she watches, the more apparent it becomes. Even the dancer’s skin and smile appear more ethereal. In that moment, Alina knows that this is something she can never walk away from. The knowledge is addictive as if she has solved a puzzle no one else can–as if she finally understands one of the many secrets of the world. 

And won’t rest until she understands them all.

The beauty of it is so at odds with the body she and Mal had found only a week prior. The almost silvery, moon-like hue that radiates from the ballerina doesn’t begin to compare with the dark, oily strands that had seeped from the police officer’s slashes. Yet, it makes sense that something so beautiful can coexist with something so evil; humanity alone is proof of that. Then Alina’s thoughts drift back to every detail she can remember: the slashes across his chest, the ink slipping from the corners of his eyes, and the thought of the body jolts Alina back to the present. Her spine straightens and shoulders stiffen.

“Tell me why you’re so invested in this murder. It goes beyond simply being fascinated with the fantastical.” 

The dark silhouette next to her rests back in his seat, the pleasure that had been radiating off him suddenly morphing into something cold, just as the dancers on stage begin to move faster and faster, twirling around a stark white figure at the centre. The figure spins desperately, arms reaching out and face morphed into an expression of pain.

“Now isn’t the time for that conversation, Miss Starkov.”

“Miss Starkov?” Alina scoffs, rolling her eyes. “You can’t show me the beautiful and expect me not to seek out the dark.”

The dancer bends to one knee, fingers grasping at her own throat.

Silence.

And then a soft exhale. 

“You don’t know what you are getting into.”

The figure collapses. The other dancers flee.

“No, I don’t.” The audience begins to clap and the music comes to a dramatic halt, and Alina politely follows suit. “But when has that ever stopped me?”

The music soon picks up again, though this time it is much more gentle. Someone else slowly begins to step on stage; his movements are tentative, almost curious. He bends down at the knee, reaching forward to carefully run his hand along the pale cheek of the dancer. 

Alina doesn’t hear Aleksander speak for the rest of the performance. It’s a welcome change, but Alina also can’t shake the feeling that she has disappointed him somehow. The thought of Aleksander sulking, of all things, is almost laughable.

But still entirely possible.

The performance ends with a standing ovation and roaring applause. Alina stands with the rest of the audience and doesn’t stop clapping until the curtain falls again. Aleksander stands next to her, slowly rising from his seat and adjusting his coat as he does so. His claps are simply polite, lacking any enthusiasm, and Alina can only roll her eyes in response. He has no passion, no admiration for anything impressive or beautiful. 

It’s also just plain rude.

As the audience weaves out of the theatre Aleksander remains by the edge of the balcony, his eyes following the trail of people until only a few remain, while Alina hangs back by the curtain that separates them from the empty hallway. He quietly turns after a few moments. Alina watches as he shifts towards her slowly, each movement and action practiced and deliberate; the picking up of his hat, the buttoning of his jacket, the way he stops mere inches away from Alina.

She frowns, curious more than anything, when he pulls the shawl tighter around her shoulders. It isn’t an action meant to charm but Aleksander isn’t one to give into subconscious actions. Alina wonders what it’s like to want to manipulate everyone–to need to manipulate.

“Come for a walk with me.”

“ _Please_.”

Aleksander’s hands still on her shoulders and Alina watches in silence as his jaw clenches.

“Alina, will you join me for a walk, _please?_ ” It really is quite impressive that, despite his clenched teeth and obvious frustration, Aleksander manages to speak as smoothly as ever. Alina would almost consider it charming if it wasn’t for the anger bubbling under the cool shade of his eyes. Alina nods, gently removing his hands from her shoulders so that she can loop her arm through his.

“Would you like to try the park across the street? I’ve had quite enough of alleyways for one week.” 

As she takes a hold of his arm Aleksander stiffens briefly, before moulding back into the charming persona he must wear frequently. He doesn’t exactly smile at people as they pass, but the elegant nod of his head combined with the enigmatic demeanour he exudes is enough to send plenty of women into a tizzy and make many men check the straightness of their ties and the creases of their suits. 

“The park would be perfect,” he speaks softly as they exit the theatre and the cool air hits Alina’s bare skin. 

It doesn’t take long to reach the park. One of the most vibrant parts of the city, seemingly exempt from the dullness that seems to drape over the streets and buildings, the park stands out. Flowers upon flowers of varying species and colours line the pathways and sit in purposeful clumps among the trees. Hedges and bushes are clipped to perfection, and tall lamp posts signal the way further into the green expanse. With the slight mist that is beginning to settle across the ground and hover in the air–it almost seems mystical. Magical, even. 

“As we walk, look just out of the corner of your eye–like in the theatre–but this time at the bushes and trees.” 

“They’re here too?”

“Haven’t you ever wondered why some places in this city somehow manage to avoid the grey misery that practically seeps from the cobblestones and bricks? Wherever the mystical exists, it thrives–and the area thrives along with it. Think of the library–”

“And the market.” Alina blurts out, voice soft with disbelief. 

“Especially the market. It’s the closest to the other side of the city. Anything or anyone that belongs to the mystical must pass through the market to get here.”

“The first body was close to the market.” 

“Yes. It was.” The enthusiasm in his voice dies out. Alina bites her tongue to stop questions from slipping between her lips. If she’s learnt anything over the past few days, it’s that timing is everything when it comes to Aleksander. She can’t risk him closing off completely. “Look to the bushes–but try not to make it obvious.”

Alina looks to the sky for a second, desperately pleading with whatever god or saint is up there to provide her with the will not to maim the man beside her, before she does what Aleksander says. 

Immediately Alina spots a small figure, just a little larger than her middle finger, sitting on a leaf and watching the pair of them as they stroll past. Other figures soon join it–and it’s then that Alina notices the slight glow around them. She looks away before it becomes obvious that she is staring, but still comes to a sudden halt.

“I think I remember…” Aleksander stops next to her, eyes completely focused on her face. Alina pulls her arm from his. “When I was younger, still at the orphanage, we would take trips every few months to the woods just beyond the outskirts of the city. One time, I went too far, and I told our guardian that fairies had led me away–I always remembered that as a lie, but now… I’m not so sure.”

Alina stares down at her hands. That she may have been surrounded by this completely different world her whole life without knowing is hard to digest, even more so knowing how often she had longed for something more to her life. She thinks of the books on fairytales and lore strewn across the floor of her room, hours spent in the library pouring over texts. An ache builds in her chest.

Soft fingers press against the underside of her chin and lift, urging her to make eye contact with Aleksander–who looks down on her with eyes about as gentle as he can probably manage.

“They likely did. They’ll be drawn to you, Alina. Not only are you something other to humans, you’re something other to them. One of a kind.” He speaks almost wistfully, longingly. Perhaps even knowingly. Alina holds his gaze for a moment longer before glancing back down at the bushes. She feels the absence of his fingers as they reluctantly pull away.

But the little figures are gone. It strikes Alina as odd, that creatures so curious and apparently _drawn_ to her would suddenly disappear. Her feet move her closer and Alina doesn’t stop until her skirts brush against the leaves and thin branches. Then, the air suddenly chills. The thrum of Alina’s veins suddenly bursts to life and a pressure begins to build in her head, pushing against her temple as if trying to drag her away. She turns to Aleksander, who still stands a few paces away. 

“Aleks–”

His face contorts into shock, then something that she can only describe as fear, but Alina doesn’t get to respond. Before she can take another step forward something heavy and moving at a lethal speed knocks Alina into the dirt. The air jolts out of her lungs, leaving her scrambling and trying to listen for anything over the ringing in her ears. The last thing she sees before darkness swims in her vision is a bright light erupting across the park, leaving Alina dazed, confused, and quickly unconscious.


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really, really adore this chapter. It's the one in this fic that I managed to write completely without taking any breaks. I also love the stereotypical setting of the gothic house (I blame my English teachers for my obsession with Dracula and Jane Eyre). Also, take a shot every time Alina or Aleksander piss each other off (:

Wrapped in one of Genya’s old coats and hair haphazardly woven into a braid, Alina stands before a house that she can only describe as lonely. It’s lovely with its high windows and dark, slate roof, and the garden is lush with greenery and delicate little flowers–but looking closer it all seems empty. The garden may have a vibrancy to it but it feels like a fake smile. There is no bustling behind the windows, nor any sign of life besides the flicker of a candle in what is likely the study, so unlike the Safin household which is constantly bustling with noise and visitors. 

Wind blows tendrils of hair across Alina’s vision, but she ignores them as she glances down at the crumpled slip of paper in her hand. It’s stark white save for the dark scrawl of handwriting; sharp yet elegant–Aleksander’s personality in ink. Alina stares at the house from the safety of the street for one moment longer, the carriage behind her waiting for her to flee instead, before making her way down the path. She hears the carriage leave, and that’s when the anxiety hits. It drops in her stomach and squeezes her chest but being here is more important than soothing any nervousness. It’s been four days since Alina was attacked, and only one since she woke up to Genya’s worried face and Mal desperately clinging to her hand. 

Aleksander had apparently turned up at the Safin home, Alina bundled in his arms and locks of hair disastrously out of place. Genya said she’d never imagined the man could be so panicked. He didn’t tell Genya who or what had attacked Alina, nor why he needed to spend an hour alone with Alina, tending to her bruises and scratches–but the large scars down Alina’s back, similar to the slashes on the policeman’s body yet mysteriously purged of all dark slick, was evidence enough.

For whatever reason, the creature decided to target Alina–but it didn’t succeed. 

What neither Aleksander nor Alina have deigned to mention is the flash of bright light that Alina saw before she became unconscious. It was only the night after she woke that Alina realised the flash of light was exactly the same as the one that lives permanently in her dreams. When Genya asked, Alina told her that the creature probably found some more interesting prey, Alina may have just been in the way–but truthfully, she knows that’s not it. Whatever that light was and wherever it came from, Alina isn’t sure.

But the feeling in her veins, the hum in her fingertips just as the creature attacked…

It’s foolish to presume, but sometimes coincidences are more than just that. 

Alina slowly approaches the door and carefully reaches for the simple knocker attached to the door. She doesn’t have to wait for long. Seconds after she knocks the door opens and reveals a casually dressed Aleksander; his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and he doesn’t wear a tie with his waistcoat. 

They watch each other with equal curiosity. Alina studies his face and posture, searching for any sign that the creature managed to attack him too–but the only evidence of damage she can spot is a slight cut on his cheek, thin and surrounded by a soft bruise.   
“I met Malyen,” Aleksander finally says, hand still flat against the door and lips pulled into the beginnings of a scowl. Alina shrugs. Mal had been there when she’d woken up, he’d even been the one to give her Aleksander’s address–though reluctantly– but he didn’t mention that he’d been there the night of the attack. 

“He’s protective.”

His focus drifts from her face to her hair–and he freezes. Aleksander raises his hand and carefully brushes aside a tendril of hair that had escaped from her braid. 

“It’s white,” he mutters. Alina manages a stiff smile. The single streak of stark white hair runs through her braid; It’s not large, but the contrast between it and her natural brown makes it startlingly obvious.

“I guess the scars weren’t enough of a reminder.” Aleksander’s hand slowly drops and Alina bites her lip. She stares back down at her hands and the slip of paper, and flexes her fingers. “The light, was it…”

A soft exhale comes from the space just in front of her.

“Come with me. Would you like a drink?”

Alina steps inside and Aleksander closes the door behind her, before carefully taking her jacket and hanging it up on a nearby hook. It feels even cooler inside, even emptier. There isn’t any life at all. The door to his study is propped open, but everything else is closed off. Alina shivers. Even she, who enjoys her own company more than most, can’t imagine living in isolation like this. 

“No, thank you.” 

Aleksander nods, leading her into the study. 

There’s a large desk in the middle of the room, with a cold cup of tea set on the side and pencils and ink pots lined up precisely. Behind the desk stands a large bookshelf, lined with tomes that seem to date back centuries. Alina makes her way over to the windows that look over the garden.

She frowns.

“Doesn’t it get lonely?” 

“I’m too busy to be lonely,” Aleksander deflects after a brief pause. The sound of rustling papers and the clink of an ink pot follows.

“No one is ever too busy to be lonely,” Alina responds, though mostly to herself, before turning back to the desk and taking the seat that Aleksander had readied for her. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks, though there’s no feeling there. He sounds clinical, like a doctor, completely detached and purely curious.

“My back is sore but healed far beyond what it should be. What did you do that night?”

“I’ve learnt a few tricks over the years, Alina.”

“But the black… oil, that the creature always leaves behind.” Alina leans forwards, watching as Aleksander stares down at the papers on his desk to avoid her eyes. “There’s no trace-”

He looks up quickly, eyes narrowed and eyebrows pinched.

“I have vials of healing water on me at all times in case of a situation like this. You’ve seen the extent of my abilities, Alina. Leave it at that.”

She scowls in response, but dumps the crumpled paper on the desk, tucks her hands into her lap, and falls into silence anyway. Somehow, she doesn’t quite believe Aleksander that walking through shadows is the extent of his _abilities._ His presence alone is too powerful. Alina won’t even pretend to know much, but she has a feeling that healing water alone wouldn’t be enough to combat whatever it is that creature leaves behind, either. But Aleksander can keep his secrets. If Alina has her way, the creature will be finished soon and so will their partnership.

Though the thought of losing Aleksander does leave an odd, hollow feeling in her chest.

Alina blames her need to consume every bit of knowledge she can about the mystical. Aleksander is the key.

“What do you remember?”

She doesn’t answer the question immediately. Alina glances out of the window from where she sits, lips biting into her lip and fingers picking at the skin around her nails. 

“Those little creatures disappearing, looking back at you. Your face.” Alina lets her words hang for a moment before turning back to face Aleksander–who sits on the opposite side of the desk, expression neutral and posture rigid. “Being knocked to the ground–and then the light. That’s it. I didn’t even catch a glimpse of the thing that attacked me. It came from nowhere–and then vanished. The light scared it, didn’t it?”

“It wasn’t just scared, it was hurt. It had a slight limp as it darted away.” The silence between them becomes thick, and Alina knows there is something hovering on the tip of Aleksander’s tongue, threatening to drop and shatter the tense peace. “Alina, that light…”

A lump suddenly forms in Alina’s throat and her hands still in her lap. She remembers the thrum in her bones, the relief that came with the flash.

“It was me, wasn’t it?”

Aleksander nods and the breath catches in Alina’s throat. She presses a hand to her head, eyes squeezed shut and breathing raggedly. But the panic soon gives way to relief–the relief of finally taking one, solid step towards understanding what it is that she has been experiencing. As she looks back up at Aleksander, she doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Both bubble at the seam of her lips.

“The white hair, is it from the stress of it?”

“I’m more inclined to believe it is because you’re no longer suppressing it.” Aleksander leans forwards then, resting his arms on the desk and watching as Alina fiddles with the loose, white tendrils of hair. “At some point, when you were very young, your mind decided to suppress your abilities and likely decided to mimic those around you, presenting yourself as human.” Alina freezes then, eyes widening. “I’m not saying you’ll suddenly grow pointy ears or webbed feet, in fact it’s highly unlikely, but a baby with white hair is hardly a common occurrence.”

“I was given away as a baby.” Her words are soft and quiet, almost whispered. She feels her heart stutter at the possibilities. “They gave me away because I wasn’t normal.” Alina almost chokes on the words.

“They abandoned you because they couldn’t appreciate the gift they’d be given.” A harsh, choked laugh forces its way through Alina’s lips. It’s bittersweet, to discover you are something special, but also to know that you were abandoned for the same reason. Aleksander reaches across the desk, palm up. “Give me your hand.”

He takes hers gently and runs a single finger up from her palm to her wrist, and Alina feels her body respond immediately–but gently. The thrumming follows his finger, like a snake to music or a bee to honey.

“Close your eyes. Think of that light and nothing else. How did you feel, mentally and physically?” Alina exhales softly, and closes her eyes.

She thinks of the light, thinks of her fear and confusion–and then the startling clarity. The warmth in her veins and the buzzing in her bones. She thinks of the power she must have, to frighten such an evil being. Alina imagines the light coming from within, building in her heart and extending, weaving along her arms and legs and neck. 

When she opens her eyes, all she can do is stare. 

Aleksander still cradles her hand, fingers still draped against the soft flesh of her wrist, but it isn’t his touch that has her sitting in awe–it’s the soft ball of light floating just above the palm of her hand. 

It lights the room up, scares away the shadows and welcomes life into each nook and crevice. Aleksander even watches with a soft expression, his lips parted slightly, as if it is the most beautiful thing he has ever witnessed. It flickers slightly, but only completely disappears when Aleksander pulls his hand away. 

“Why did it flicker out when you pulled away?” Alina twists her hand and flexes her fingers as she stares at the space where the orb had just been. 

“I am able to bring it out in people. All it requires is touch.”

Alina looks up then, eyebrow raised and lips pursed.

“So when you told me I’d seen the extent of your abilities, you were lying.”

He bristles and Alina smirks.

“It’s something to feel rather than see,” Aleksander explains, though with a slightly bitter tone. “I call it amplifying. Without my help, the orb would have been miniscule. You’d need training to be able to produce anything close to what happened a few nights ago without my assistance and without a violent trigger.” 

Alina listens quietly as he speaks, her eyes wandering to the large windows again. The sky is now a deep purple, verging on nighttime, and some stars are beginning to wink into place.

“It’s late. I should go.”

They rise simultaneously. Aleksander moves around the desk, standing by the door with his hand on the doorknob, ready to show Alina out. She pauses before him and they stand in silence for a moment.

But before either can speak, scratching begins at the window. Both freeze and slowly turn to the window as the scratching stops. Aleksander takes a step forward but Alina quickly latches onto his arm to stop him. He doesn’t try to shake her off. Instead, he takes a step backwards so that his body almost covers hers entirely.

“Alina–”

A dark shape slowly reaches up from the darkness. It looks like a sickening combination of a hand and claw; almost human fingers, mangled and twisted into strange angles, slope into thick, sharp, serrated claws. And slowly, once they reach the glass, they begin to scrape downwards. Alina slowly reaches for the doorknob behind her with her free hand, desperately trying not to alert the creature of their presence–although she’s sure it is already fully aware where they are. The scratching then stops again. Just as Alina pulls the door open, pushing Aleksander forwards a step to make room, scratching, light–almost playful–begins at the next window along. The window closest to the front of the house. 

“It’s playing with us,” Alina whispers, and Aleksander nods. Carefully, they step out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar so not to make too much noise. 

“Follow me to the upstairs office. It has something we need.”

The office in question is smaller than the study downstairs. In fact, Alina would be reluctant to call it an office at all. On the desk pushed against the wall, and surrounded by scattered vials, stand various flasks and bottles filled liquids and little objects both colourful and murky. Alina stands at the far side of the room, practically pushed against the wall to keep as far away from the closed door as possible. Scratched in symbols line along the frame of the door– _wards_ , Aleksander had briefly explained. But Alina doesn’t feel so sure they’ll do much to keep the creature out. It’s quite a bizarre room, really. Aleksander is clearly more involved with the mystical than Alina previously thought.

While Alina ponders the usefulness of the wards, Aleksander pushes bottles and papers aside, the candle in his hand flickering with every move he makes. Then he turns and shoves a small object into Alina’s hands. She looks down, startled, and has to fight the urge to flinch when she realises what it is.

“Is this– _bone?_ ”. 

“It does what I can do–amplify. Just not to the same extent.” 

As Aleksander moves away from the desk Alina catches a glimpse of a few papers that have been haphazardly shoved into a pile. On top is nothing but scribbles of handwriting and diagrams that she can’t understand, but just peeking out is a dark image, not quickly sketched like the rest but drawn in meticulous detail. She recognises the shape of the claws. Alina takes a step forward, instinctively reaching forwards to push the paper aside.

“Alina.”

Her fingers freeze millimetres away from the image. Expecting to be reprimanded, Alina turns with excuses ready at the wait, but instead she is greeted with the image of Aleksander, candle in one hand while the other reaches out beside him, gesturing for Alina to use him like a shield. It’s then that Alina hears the heavy, irregular steps inching closer and closer to the door. She clutches the bone tighter in her hand and steps towards Aleksander–though chooses to stand beside him rather than behind.

Everything falls silent for a moment. There is no movement on the other side of the door, and all Alina can hear is her own heavy, shaky breathing and Aleksander as he whispers chants and charms under his breath. 

The door rattles as the creature pushes against it–but the door doesn’t give. It tries again, and again, until it stills. Alina feels her shoulders sag slightly, but Aleksander doesn’t show any signs of relief. Instead he watches the door just as intently as he had been for the past few minutes. Alina feels herself deflated. “The wards won’t hold, will they?”

Aleksander doesn’t respond. He doesn’t get the chance to. 

The door doesn’t swing open, it bursts to pieces as the creature shoots through. Splinters fly off in all directions, lodging in the desk and falling to the floor–a large shard narrowly misses Aleksander as it shoots past to the back of the room. 

Despite the force that it flew through with, the creature doesn’t get far. A large barrier of darkness builds just in front of it. Dark tendrils weave through each other, tightening and joining until they form something solid–something impenetrable. Alina glances at Aleksander, joke about how the wards had worked after all brewing at her lips, but she falters and stutters at the sight of his outstretched arm and the dark concentration that morphs his features. 

Suddenly, it all makes sense. Aleksander’s fascination with the creature and the murders, his secrecy, his ability to heal Alina, the drawing on his desk that is too detailed to be from a single glimpse of the creature… the shadows he currently weaves that are too similar to the substance that seeped from the wounds of the police officer.

“You made it.”

Aleksander doesn’t answer and keeps his eyes on the barrier in front of him, but Alina spots the clench of his jaw and his sharp exhale.

“ _You made it._ ”

“Now isn’t the time, Alina.”

Alina speeds towards the desk, ripping the piece of paper from the pile and finally looking at it in full view. The creature is an abomination. Its features are all mangled, and it is covered in black slick that drips from its jaw. Alina drops the paper and spins to face Aleksander.

“You put everyone in danger, and for what? Because you could?”

“It was… _a job,_ ” Aleksander hisses out as the creature bashes against the barrier again. Alina doesn’t notice the loosening of the shadows.

“I hope you rot,” she spits the words aggressively enough to truly capture Aleksander’s attention. He glares over his shoulder, lips parted to release a flurry of excuses and ‘explanations’, when the shadows finally give way. The creature pauses, almost shocked at the sudden removal of the obstacle. It’s the first time Alina has seen the creature in full view–and it is somehow even more abhorrent than Aleksander’s diagram portrayed. Aleksander inches backwards, and Alina moves towards him. Her anger subsides in the face of fear.

The creature bares its teeth, but it doesn’t growl. It’s a predatory smile.  
It leaps forward, but not at Aleksander. Alina manages to throw herself to the ground, watching helplessly as the bone in her hand rolls under the desk and the creature hits the back of the room. Aleksander moves his arm again while Alina scrambles to her feet and manages to weave some shadows around the limbs of the creature, pinning it to the ground–even if only for a second. 

As soon as the creature begins to bite around its legs they both run. Alina stumbles over her skirts, and Aleksander grabs her upper arm to right her. 

They only make it half way down the stairs when the heavy footfall begins again.

Alina comes to a stumbling halt, Aleksander just behind her. She looks back to him, eyes wide as the footsteps seem to move over them, rather than from behind, and frowns when she spots the candle in his hand.

“You’re still holding that?”

For the first time in their short tenure of knowing each other, Aleksander looks openly exasperated. His eyes widen and his lips part, while his eyebrows furrow and his chin drops slightly. If the situation weren’t so fraught with danger, Alina would probably be laughing. 

The footsteps stop and Alina risks another couple of steps downwards, towards the front door that stands ajar. There’s no sign of the creature, but the hall is dark enough, with the lanterns blown out and candle sticks laying on the ground, for it to move slickly through the shadows. It’s intelligent, Alina realises. The footsteps had been an intimidation tactic–and so is its sudden disappearance. It likes fear. Feeds on the terror that is likely rolling off Alina in waves.

The creature drops from the ceiling, blocking their exit, just as Alina hits the final step. Her breath catches in her throat, and she feels her chest constrict–but she also feels the buzz in her veins and the pressure in her head at the sight of the creature, at being in such close proximity. It makes her stand straight, fuels her with some feeling of hope that battles the fear and pushes the lump back down her throat. 

It takes one step towards them. Alina latches onto Aleksander’s wrist as he stops behind her. 

And then, she is unleashed.

It isn’t quite as bright as it had been on the night of the ballet, but it is bright enough to shock both her and the creature. The shriek that erupts from the creature’s maw is high pitched and bursting with pain. It leaves a ringing sound in Alina’s ears as she sinks to her knees. But by the time the light subsides, slowly melting back into the darkness, the creature has disappeared. 

After a few moments, Aleksander slowly sinks down next to her with his elbows resting on his knees. He seems deflated, tired. 

“Yes, I made it. But not for my own satisfaction.” Alina raises an eyebrow and Aleksander purses his lips in response. “Not fully, anyway. I was hired.”

“Hired to make that _thing_?”

“Hired to experiment. To see how far I could push the knowledge we already have.” 

Alina watches as the candle light dances across his features, emphasising the shadows under his eyes that she hadn’t noticed before, and the permanent downwards turn of his lips.

“You still don’t think you went too far.”

He looks at Alina then, gaze strong and focused. Unrelenting.

“No.”

“Well,” Alina begins as she stares out of the open door. It is wholly dark now, the street lamps the only light across the street. She should have been home an hour ago. “I’m still going to fight this thing, whether you want to or not. It should be destroyed.”

Aleksander does look uncomfortable at the thought, but he still nods. 

“You’ll need an amplifier. One of your own.”

“One of my own,” Alina breathes as the ache in her bones begins to set in. “How very exciting.”


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing another character! I know it’s relatively late on considering how short this fic is, but it felt right to introduce them now. This one also introduces my all time favourite OC. Finally - sorry for the spam of updates this week. I had no internet but now I am BACK.

A few days have passed since the attack on Aleksander’s home, though they haven’t passed slowly. They have been filled with preparing for the upcoming ball - which would be the bane of her existence if Aleksander Morozova didn’t exist. Genya had dragged Alina out to Katarina’s that morning and within seconds of entering the Safin home, arms laden with boxes and bags from the seamstress, Aya darts out of the kitchen and stops both Genya and Alina in their tracks. Her smile is too wide, and her movements lack their usual perfect grace; she’s panicked–which is something neither of the girls are used to seeing. 

“Mother–” Genya begins, only to stutter and frown when she pulls the large box out of Genya’s arms. “That’s my _dress_.”

“I know, and I am sure it looks lovely, darling, but–Marie, can you grab the bags from Alina, please?” Alina watches in silence, sparing a small smile as Marie carefully takes the multiple bags from her arms. “We have visitors,” she finally explains, visibly paling a little. “Incredibly important, surprise visitors. They’re expecting you, so please do be quick. I don’t know how much longer your father can entertain them for.”

And then she darts off with Marie, carting the shopping up the stairs to be dropped into the respective rooms. Genya and Alina stare at each other, baffled, for a few moments. It’s early for any visitors to drop by, and it isn’t often that someone can make Genya’s mother act so skitty. Alina can’t remember the last time she acted like that. 

“Well,” Alina mutters, pulling her gloves from her hands to leave them on the little shelf by the front door. Her coat soon follows.

Genya snorts.

“You look like you’re getting ready for battle.”

“I’m half convinced we might be,” Alina retorts as Genya grins. “Shall we?”

Genya removes her own outer clothes just before they both stand ready in front of the parlour room door. It could be anyone, although the _incredibly important_ nature of their visit has Alina baffled. Maybe it’s a doctor, here for a check up–or perhaps it’s someone from the orphanage. 

Alina takes a deep breath, and pushes open the door.

Time seems to stand still. 

Standing by the window, almost leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest is Aleksander. The frown at his lips and the slight hunch to his posture makes him look sulky–but Alina doesn’t take the time to criticise his behaviour. She’s too drawn to the figure facing the fireplace. He stands tall, blonde hair slicked back and posture as straight as a pole. Nothing about his clothing is particularly extraordinary beyond the bespoke fit–but the ring glistening on his pinky finger as he picks up and examines an ornament is unmistakable. 

Suddenly, they both drop into a low curtsey.

From under her eyelashes Alina sees him turn to face them both and very clearly hears Aleksander’s low scoff.

“Oh, please do rise. I can’t have two beautiful women breaking their backs for me.”

As they straighten, Alina subtly sends a glare Aleksander’s way. He readily meets her eyes–which only makes her narrow hers further.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m gracing you with my presence on this fine afternoon.”

Nikolai Lantsov is a sight to behold–and not just in his appearance, which is unmistakingly attractive. He oozes charm and grace; the way he dances around the room, examining the bookshelves and paintings, slipping into the large chair by the fireplace, offering both Alina and Genya smiles that feel private, like a secret only they share. It’s magnetising. And it’s deliberate, every inch of it. There’s a reason he’s known doubly as the Prince and as the Cunning Fox. Tales of his beauty may reach the outskirts of the land, but the tales of his intelligence and wit reach further. 

“Of course,” Genya replies politely. Nikolai smiles as she speaks, resting back in the chair and crossing one leg over the other. 

“I need to speak to Miss Starkov about a few… _incidents_ that have occurred over the past two weeks.” He falls silent for a moment as he watches Genya’s increasingly forced, neutral expression. “An important, _private_ , matter.”

“I’m staying.”

Genya’s voice echoes throughout the room. Aleksander glances back out of the window, running his fingers across his lips to hide the growing smirk there, while Nikolai almost freezes in his seat. If they’d been in the presence of the King, or even Nikolai’s brother, Genya would’ve become very familiar with the feeling of a noose very quickly–but Nikolai’s smile just grows into something more genuine. His grin brightens his features.

“Perfect.” And then everything shifts; the atmosphere, the temperature, Nikolai’s loose grin. It’s then that Alina remembers the Prince isn’t here for a brief visit. He wants to talk business. “Aleksander tells me you and your friend discovered the first body. Talk me through what you saw.”

“It was… savage, to say the least. Large slashes all over the body, that inky substance leaking from the police officer’s eyes.”

“And you’ve seen the creature in person.”

Aleksander shifts from one leg onto the other. Alina swallows the lump in her throat.

“Yes.” She quietly replies.

“Would you say it is an effective killer?” The question strikes Alina as odd. Whether it’s effective or not doesn’t matter. It’s dangerous either way.

“It’s intelligent,” Alina begins, thinking of the way it trailed Alina and Aleksander through the house, using its footsteps to incite fear. “And cunning. It enjoys playing with its prey, too.”

Nikolai hums as he rests his chin on his hand. The signet ring winks at her.

“And you have quite the response to this creature and its trail, I’ve heard.”

Alina glances at Genya out of the corner of her eye, and then down at her hands. It’s not hard to remember the buzz in her vein and the flash of bright light that she knows she can summon.

“I can feel when it’s close if I concentrate enough. Like a buzz.” Explaining this feels like a confession. Not even Genya knows the full extent of it. Alina hasn’t even managed to explain what she can truly do to Genya yet, so when Nikolai glances down at her hand expectantly at the same time as Aleksander, Alina feels her heart drop to her stomach.

She looks to Aleksander then, knowing that anything she does will look pathetic without his help–but he just continues to watch her, leaving Alina feeling alone and slightly betrayed even though she knows she has to learn to do this on her own eventually. 

Alina looks down at her hand again and slowly uncurls her fingers. Slowly, she closes her eyes and, just like Aleksander had taught her, tries to think of what it felt like to give into such power, imagines light flowing through her, blooming in her chest and spreading its roots through her body.

Genya’s gasp has her opening her eyes. 

In the middle of her palm hovers a small orb of light. It’s nothing compared to what she hit the creature with–but it’s something, and Nikolai is more than satisfied. He leans forwards in the seat, lips parted and eyes wide. The awe in his eyes is greedy. It makes Alina shiver. As charming as he is, he is also cunning, always looking to use whatever he can to his advantage. In his eyes, Alina has just become another pawn to use. Genya shifts closer to Alina with a look in her eyes that dares Nikolai to try and use her sister. 

Suddenly, Nikolai’s eyes shoot past Alina, towards the door. His shock soon morphs into another smile, though this one is less charming and more scathing.

“Ah. The friend, I presume?”

Hand still outstretched, Alina slowly turns.

The light dies out and her arm drops as soon as she spots Mal with his hand on the doorknob and his eyes completely focused on the space where the orb had previously been. “Mal–” Alina begins but any words fail to form. He glances about the room then, eyes stormily passing over Aleksander–who subconsciously rubs at the red mark on his cheek–and landing on the Prince. He looks so startled, it makes Alina’s chest ache. She quickly bursts back into action. “Let’s talk outside.”

Alina doesn’t wait for Nikolai’s permission. He’d just looked at her like she was some saint, so she figures he can excuse any slight impoliteness. Genya squeezes Alina’s hand as she passes, her hold fleeting but still firm, and Alina manages a shaky smile. If anything, Alina figures she has the better half of the deal. She’d much rather try to explain the situation to Mal than try to keep Prince Nikolai and Aleksander Morozova entertained. Aleksander looked like he was ready to flee at a moment’s notice. Mal allows one more glare at Aleksander as Alina pulls on his arm–then his full attention is on her. 

Everything suddenly feels incredibly fragile. 

“They’re here to talk about the bodies and the creature that left them,” Alina blurts out. “It’s awful, Mal. The ugliest, most malicious thing I have ever seen, and one of the most intelligent too. It has these claws and this _grin_ –“

“You’ve seen it?”

“Yes… At Aleksander’s house.”

“It got in?” The panic in Mal’s eyes is suddenly palpable. Alina grabs his arm and places a hand to his chest. 

“It’s fine. I scared it off.”

“Scared it off. With that…” As he trails off his eyes flit down to where her hand touches his chest and Alina reels backward. She’d forgotten he’d seen it. “What is it, Alina? How can you do all of this? What has it got to do with Morozova and that thing?”

“I don’t know.”

“I thought you went to his house for answers?”

“I did. And all I know is what I can do and that for some reason it reacts to the darkness of that creature. Potentially because it is so dark and this is… so light. There is so much I don’t understand Mal, but I do know that I can get rid of this thing. I can end it, end what Aleksander started.”

Within the blink of an eye, Mal’s panic and confusion slip into anger. Alina’s hand drops from his arm as he pulls away. 

“What do you mean, started? Did he… did he make it?”

With each passing second, Alina can feel Mal slipping away, both figuratively and literally. Alina rubs at her neck before forcing herself to meet Mal’s eyes again. Slowly, she nods.

“So, he made it. He dragged you into all of this, and you’re willingly going along with it?”

“I can help, Mal. I want to protect everyone. I want to protect _you._ ”

“And you can do that with that.” Mal waves manically at her hand. “Light?”

“I’ve scared it off twice. Even gave it a limp. I think… I know I can do it again.”

Mal leans against the wall as his shoulders sag. His hand rises to capture his head and his eyes close as the frustration rolls off him in waves. Alina stays exactly where she is. No matter how badly she wants to touch and comfort him.

“You have magic powers. There is a creature prowling the city that has its eyes on you. A creature that Morozova made... “

Alina knows exactly what is coming next. With everything she has kept from him, it’s unavoidable. 

“I have to go.”

“Mal–” Alina moves to take a step forward, arm outstretched and heart pounding in her chest. 

He steps away from her. 

“It’s a lot, right now. I… stay safe.”

The last thing she sees before he disappears out of the front door is the grimace tugging at his lips and the way he avoids her eyes. It nearly breaks her heart. As the door in front of her clicks shut, the door behind her opens and she hears soft footsteps enter the hallway. The figure hovers behind her like some ghost.

“The prince is going to return to the palace. You and I have an errand to run.”

Alina still faces the door, mind replaying the scene of Mal, confused and frustrated and _worried_ , leaving. If she looks at Aleksander now or even acknowledges his words, Alina thinks she may explode. She understands his reaction–to a certain extent. It is confusing, realising that there is so much more to their world than they thought possible. It’s frustrating to know that the woman you love is readily putting herself in danger, regularly putting herself in the company of a man she claims to hate–she doesn’t hate him, not really, both she and Mal know that. But now, more than ever, Alina needs Mal’s help and support. His absence leaves a gaping hole in her chest. She refuses to find comfort in the man behind her, even if the thought is all too tempting. _He understands_ , whispers her treacherous mind. Alina just frowns.

“He will never understand, Alina,” Aleksander explains softly. Alina’s fists clench. “He isn’t like us.”

“You said we have an errand?” Her voice is sharp, final, as she turns to face Aleksander. He nods after a long moment of thought.

“Yes. To the market. There is something there waiting for us.”

“Of course.” Alina looks back to the parlour door, wishing she could rush in and let herself hide in Genya’s arms–just for a second. Instead, she heads to the door, grabbing and slipping on her coat and gloves as she does so. “We should go now. I don’t want to be out for too long.”

Aleksander rests the hat in his hands gently on top of his head and slips on his own gloves as Alina pulls open the door. The tension between them is thick, and unwelcome.

The walk to the market is blanketed with a heavy silence. But as soon as they reach the market, in all its vibrancy and cacophony of bartering, Alina feels herself relax. She supposes it’s the magic of the place. Her body and mind recognise it as familiar, as a place of comfort. Even Aleksander’s shoulders, previously tense and lifted, have sagged slightly. 

Alina expects Aleksander to continue walking down the street, towards one of the stalls at the very end, but instead, he suddenly turns and ducks into a stall, only waiting for a split second to gesture for Alina to follow him. She pushes through the silk curtains and comes to a startled halt when she sees what is on the other side. 

“A bridge.” She’d had no idea it was here. Alina had lived in this city almost her whole life–and yet had no idea that a large, beautiful piece of architecture had stood under her nose the whole time. Glowing lanterns stand on either side of the bridge, almost pink in hue and bright despite it still being daytime. The bridge itself is made of cobblestone, like any other bridge in the city, except the stones seem to shine as if they are wet, or covered in stardust–but when Alina takes a step forward and runs the toe of her shoe along the ground, it isn’t slippery at all. Aleksander stands by the edge of the bridge, watching with an undecipherable expression as Alina gingerly begins to make her way towards him.

“The market has been hiding this the whole time?”

“The market has been hiding a lot more than just a bridge,” he retorts. As they reach the other side of the bridge, Alina understands what he means. There is a whole other quarter of the city connected to this side of the bridge. The architecture is the same at first glance, but after taking another look Alina begins to notice the differences. The bricks shine or sparkle and windows glisten as if daylight permanently hits them; lanterns hang between buildings, and the streets are filled with life. Everything is so vibrant it almost makes Alina’s eyes hurt. She hadn’t realised how miserable her part of the city truly looked. 

“How have we missed all of this?” she wonders aloud. Aleksander glances over at her, eyes light even if his lips don’t smile. There’s something contagious about anybody’s awe and enthusiasm. Aleksander is likely thriving on hers, especially when he is the one showing her it all.

“People do stumble across every now and then, pushed by some urge they can’t explain–that urge being magic, of course, some faerie desperate for some fun. That stall we passed through keeps little vials of the river water for those same people to drink on their way back. It’s a magical healing agent, so it heals any memories that have been impacted by the magic here.”

“So that liquid you used on me the night of the attack?”

“The very same.” 

Alina hums at his response. “But… the water wasn’t the only thing you used. You can naturally manipulate and combat what it leaves behind, can’t you?”

His eyes lose a little of their light, but he nods nonetheless.“Yes. Ah,” He mutters. “We’ve arrived.” 

They come to a stop outside of a small building tucked away on the corner of the street. It’s a little crooked, with a door slightly on a slant and a roof that is higher on one side than the other, but as soon as they step inside Alina is frozen in awe for what feels like the hundredth time that afternoon. The room is decorated with garlands that seem to glow and a door at the far end stands open, revealing a room that seems something like a laboratory-cross-seamstress’. A short lady soon appears, with long, curled hair and silken skin. Alina tries not to stare at the gentle point of her ears. 

“Aleks! Come to visit at last.” She laughs, rushing forward to cup Aleksander’s face in her hands. Alina expects him to look uncomfortable but instead, he smiles softly.

“Tati, it hasn’t been that long since my last visit.”

“Long enough.” Tati grins, before turning towards Alina. “And this is who the necklace is for, I’m presuming?”

“Tati, this is Alina Starkov. Alina, Tatianna.” 

“Well,” she begins, releasing Aleksander’s face to fully face Alina and wink. “You’re certainly the prettiest project he’s had so far. Now, take a seat while I find your purchase. I won’t be a moment.”

As she dashes off into the back room Alina slowly takes a seat, offering Aleksander a single, raised eyebrow as he sits beside her. “An old friend?”

A series of bangs and crashes come from the back room, followed by the low swearing of Tati’s melodic voice. Alina flinches at a particularly loud crash but Aleksander doesn’t even blink. Clearly, someone is used to the antics.

“She helps me with my different projects every now and then. Her services are invaluable.”

Alina purses her lips to stop the growing smirk.

“I’m sure.”

Tati soon appears again, though this time she carries a small, simple box. It is wooden, decorated with tiny runes and patterns. Alina watches in fascination as Tati, still standing, sets the box down in front of Alina and Aleksander and rests her hand on top.

“Prepare yourselves. This is my best work yet.” She grins, before slowly pulling open the lid.

Alina feels the breath in her chest rush out of her mouth. 

Even Aleksander leans forward.

Sitting in the box, laid delicately on a cushion of red dark velvet, is a stark white pendant. It hangs from a simple silver chain and the pendant itself is small and discrete, but as Alina leans closer to take a better look, she spots the beautiful antlers, surrounding a small circle in the middle, engraved into the material.

“You can take it out,” Tati encourages, practically bouncing from the excitement of a customer falling in love with their purchase. “It is yours, after all.”

Gently, Alina reaches forward and takes the necklace from the box. Now resting in her hand, she can see all the details much more clearly than before. The circle in the middle isn’t just a circle, but a sun, and the antlers are so much more intricate than she had first presumed. It leaves her breathless. As she touches the pendant with her finger, her blood sets alight. Her gasp is audible.

“Stag ivory. One of the best materials you can use for an amplifier,” Tati explains. Aleksander watches the whole exchange in silence.

“It’s beautiful.”

“And subtle enough for you to wear at all times. Aleksander said you wouldn’t want anything too gaudy, and it appears he was correct.”

“Oh,” Alina glances up at Aleksander, whose lips are now pursed and eyes directed frostily at Tati. Tati simply smiles. “He did, did he?” Tati hums.

“It was the best amplifier I could manage in such short notice.”

“It’s perfect,” Aleksander finally speaks. Alina watches as he reaches into his coat pocket, only to pull out a large bag of coin. Tati’s eyes light up at the sight of it. “Your payment.”

“Always a pleasure.” Tati sings, bobbing into a quick curtsey before snatching the bag up. She shakes the bag next to her ear and sighs. “Every piece accounted for. Is there anything else I can do for the pair of you? A nice pair of earrings perhaps? Maybe a ring… or two?” She winks again and this time, Alina feels herself blush. 

“That will be all.” Aleksander states as he stands and Alina follows, looping her arms around her neck to clasp the necklace in place.

“You could help her, you know.” The impish statement comes from Tati, who leans casually against a counter, slowly counting her coin. She doesn’t smile at either of them, but her amusement is clear enough.

Despite struggling for a few seconds, Alina finally clasps the necklace and shakes her head.

“I’m fine. Shall we go?”

“We should.” Aleksander nods, casting Tati one more passing look. “We have an attack to plan.”


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing the end, (only one more full chapter after this and the epilogue!) so I just want to thank everyone for reading, and especially those of you that have commented and shared. This may be a baby fic, but it's my baby - and I'm so glad I get to share it with you all. Here's to the final stretch!

A Prince sitting at her kitchen table is not something Alina thought she’d ever see. Even more astounding: Lantsov looks completely at home. He doesn’t wince at the smattering of flour across the countertop, nor does he shy away from introducing himself to Marie who quickly sets down cups of tea and a plate of biscuits before disappearing. Nikolai doesn’t even sit at the end of the table. He sits next to Aleksander, opposite Genya, and it makes Alina suspicious. He is too casual, too welcoming for a royal. Genya had pointed out the night before that his readiness to give into Genya’s desire to stay was likely a way to show that he respected other people and their wishes; it would give them a false sense of security, a false thought that they would be listened to when it came to plan the attack.

They, in turn, would be prepared to give Nikolai whatever he wants. They would feel like they owed him, like he would do it for them... so why shouldn’t they help him too?

Genya is equally suspicious, but even she can’t help but smile when Nikolai turns on the charm.

Aleksander is the complete opposite. He watches Nikolai and Genya with what appears to be mild interest, but his eyes are sharp. Over the past couple of days, Alina has noticed that while Nikolai forces you to see what he wants you to see–a smile, a wink, a charming laugh–Aleksander keeps it all under lock. The only way to really tell what he is thinking is through his eyes.

Alina imagines most people don’t get close enough to test that theory out. 

On the way back through the market after visiting Tati, Aleksander had admitted that the creature had been made on royal funding–hence Nikolai’s appearance and their odd relationship. But really, it makes more sense than the two of them being friends. It also explains the royal box and Aleksander’s reluctance to admit how they’d been given permission to use it. The creature being a royal creation by extension also made the reasoning for Nikolai’s strange questions yesterday much clearer. Even if he wanted it destroyed, he still wanted to know the results of the experiment.

Despite understanding his reasoning, it has Alina on edge. His interest was too keen. Too enthusiastic. The word _weapon_ rings unwelcome in her head. 

Nikolai readily dives into the biscuits, but Alina doesn’t have much of an appetite. When he’d arrived, Nikolai had stated immediately that he wanted to use the ball as the big distraction–but he hadn’t explained any further. The waft of Marie’s baking had distracted him soon enough. 

Alina glances at Genya who purses her lips and raises her eyebrows in return, before running her fingers along the pendant at her throat and clearing her throat.

“So, the ball?”

Nikolai nods as he pushes the tray towards Alina, who holds up a hand and shakes her head. Nikolai shrugs before throwing another biscuit in his mouth. They wait patiently as he bites and swallows.

“Ever so sorry, these biscuits are divine,” he says. Aleksander looks up to the ceiling briefly and Alina resists the urge to smile. “Anyway, the ball. It is the perfect distraction. Not only will a large portion of the city be in attendance, but the fireworks we’ve planned will cover any noise made by you battling out with Morozova’s creation.”

Alina twizzles the necklace once more before releasing it as she hums in response.

“I suppose the flash from the fireworks will cover any flashes I make as well.”

“I hope you aren’t intending on sending Alina in on her own to deal with that thing,” Genya quickly interrupts, eyes narrowed and cheeks flushed. Protectiveness aside, Genya is right. Alina just physically wouldn’t be able to handle a one-on-one situation.

“She’s right. I may have the amplifier but I still won’t be able to destroy it on my lonesome.”

Nikolai sips at his tea as he thinks. When he places the cup down, his whole demeanor has changed. Gone is the warm, biscuit stealing, tea stealing prince. In his stead is a sharp-minded, steely-eyed strategist. It’s then that Alina remembers he’d spent quite a few years in the military, rising through the ranks until he was called back by his brother to serve at his side. 

“Would you be able to hold it down while Alina blasts away?” he asks, the question directed at Aleksander. 

“Potentially.” He nods. “I could slow it down at least. Being of the same origin as my abilities it isn’t exactly weak to them, but it doesn’t have the advantage either.”

“You’d need to draw it in somehow, too. We’re presuming it’s hunting down Alina, Aleksander, or both, but we can’t be certain that it will choose to attack tomorrow night.” Nikolai twists the signet ring around his finger as Genya speaks, likely running every strategy he can manage through his head all at once. 

“Alina, you said you are drawn to it?”

“Yes.” She falls silent for a moment, before speaking quietly. “If I am drawn to it, then it is likely drawn to me.”

“Exactly,” Nikolai confirms. 

“You could release some of your power at the ball.” Genya’s suggestion has Alina straightening in her seat. 

“Like a siphon. A massive arrow pointing to me.”

“X marks the spot,” Nikolai adds eagerly, his smile back in place–though softer this time, less forced. More honest.

“But we would still need to lead it away, and I’m clearly not going to be able to lead it far enough on foot.” Aleksander taps the table once, twice after Alina’s point, and clears his throat. Everyone looks to him immediately.

He commands the room as easily as Nikolai does. It’s impressive–if not a little frightening. 

“I have a carriage we can use. Nondescript. No one will notice if we leave it parked outside the palace.”

“I bet it’s painted black, isn’t it?” Alina waits for his reaction and raises an eyebrow at Genya when his eyebrows furrow and his lips purse. 

“Knew it.” Genya whispers back. Aleksander continues to speak, deciding to ignore the two sisters.

“I can drive it, too.” 

“No, we need someone else to drive.” Nikolai comments, and Aleksander looks like he wants to protest at the rejection. His eyes darken slightly, and his jaw tightens. For some reason, he doesn’t want anyone else involved in the final showdown–Alina bets it has something to do with his reluctance to actually destroy the creature.

He is too power and knowledge-hungry for his own good.

“We could ask Mal,” Genya suggests. Nikolai nods–but Aleksander’s mood somehow worsens further. His only saving grace is that he doesn’t speak again.

“He can hunt,” Alina explains further. “Quite well, actually. He never misses. It’s just–I don’t know if he’ll be back anytime soon.”

“Mal will be back.” The certainty in Genya’s voice shocks Alina. After the argument yesterday, Alina has a hard time believing Mal would want to be anywhere near her. “Even if he’s still angry, he’ll be back.”

“Perfect! Mal can drive both Alina and Aleksander away from the palace–I suggest the royal park. It’s large enough for you to have space to move in, and with everyone in the palace it’ll be empty,” Nikolai suggests. It’s not as if Alina, or anyone for that matter, can think of a better place so they all nod in agreement. 

“And then I blast it to pieces.” But Alina doesn’t sound eager. It’s occurred to her in the past few moments that this is dangerous, this isn’t some fairytale for her to read and come back to whenever she likes. A happy ending isn’t guaranteed here. “I just need a moment, if you’ll excuse me.”

Alina doesn’t wait for anyone’s permission. Instead of venturing out into the hall and up to her room, she exits through the servant entrance and moves into the garden. The garden, with its tall trees and vibrant flowers has always been a place of comfort for Alina. She often escapes here, finding her usual place on the iron bench next to the ‘secret’ pond, to draw or to simply daydream. So it’s where she sits now. Her feet rest comfortably on the floor as she stares out at the pond, watching as flower petals float and little frogs cause ripples across the water. 

It’s peaceful, serene.

Alina doesn’t look up when a dark figure takes the seat next to her, and carefully watches Alina instead of the pond. 

“This is my favourite place. Even over the library. The first time Genya’s mother scolded me I ran here, and it has been my hideaway ever since,” Alina explains quietly as if speaking too loudly will disturb the peace. 

“I grew up on the outskirts of a city–another one. The woods nearby had a lake that was full of magical creatures. My mother would tell me there was a unicorn that made its home in there.”

_Mother._ The thought of Aleksander having a mother almost seems absurd. It hadn’t even occurred to Alina that he would have a mother and a father just like she does, even if hers aren’t related by blood.

“Are unicorns real?” There’s a hint of childish wonder as Alina looks up at Aleksander. She can’t tell if his subtle smile is amused or fond. Secretly, she hopes for the latter.

“Yes, but they aren’t white, and they don’t sparkle. Nasty, really. Predators more than prey.”

Hearing about his childhood, even if it is just a single moment in an ocean of many, feels like opening yet another door that can’t be closed. It makes him seem more human–though he technically isn’t. 

“Alina.” She closes his eyes as he begins to speak. The tone of his voice, careful and low, just means trouble. Why can’t he leave well enough alone? “You should rethink letting Malyen take part in this.”

“You have to ruin every peaceful moment we have, don’t you?” She sighs, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. “I’m going to guess it’s not because you care for his well being.”

“He would become collateral damage.”

“But that’s not it, is it?”

“He will be too much of a distraction.” 

Alina looks up at Aleksander again, smile bitter and shoulders tense.

“I didn’t realise you found him so pretty.”

“If you are too busy worrying about his safety the plan will fail.” His voice is still careful, some sickening twist on gentle that makes Alina’s stomach roll. She stands up so that she can look down on Aleksander. His height gives him too much added impact,

“And what do you know of distractions?” she retorts–but Aleksander doesn’t rise to the occasion as she expected. Instead, his eyes heat slightly as they slowly run across the plains of Alina’s face, only stopping when they land on the fingers that clutch at her pendant. 

“Too much.”

Alina’s face heats, partially from frustration and partially from something she doesn’t quite want to name.

“Mal is helping, and that’s final, Aleks. Just because he can’t manipulate shadows or blast light from his fingertips doesn’t mean he is useless.” It’s like poking a lion with a stick. 

Aleks bites back immediately. “I’m sure he’d be useless even if he could.” Alina’s fists clench. She can feel prickly heat building in the lines of her palm.

“You really need to stop sulking about the bruise he gave you–both to your cheek and pride.” she spits. Her blood begins to boil as soon as his lips pull up into a shadow of a smirk. Aleksander stands, brushing invisible dust off his trousers.

“You’re wasting quite a lot of time on someone who abandoned you, Alina.” 

Alina scoffs and takes a step toward Aleksander. The urge to drag him into the water is hard to resist, but she just about manages.

“Like you wouldn’t do the same the minute I became useless to you.”

“Does he understand what it’s like to be lonely, Alina? To feel isolated? To feel _different?_ ” Aleksander’s voice is growing more bitter with each word he speaks. Even as he stands straighter, Alina stands her ground. “I do. I understand it all.” 

They stand face to face, almost chest to chest, frustration and tension rolling between them like crashing waves when Genya finally interrupts. She raises an eyebrow as Alina takes a startled step back, but doesn’t say anything of it. “We have a few more minor details to sort out if you’re both okay to continue?” Alina knows for a fact that Genya doesn’t care whether Aleksander is okay or not, that the question is fully directed at her, so she nods and lets her shoulder brush his chest as she passes.

“Perfect.”

By the time they finish, Alina is exhausted. Genya hasn’t had the chance to corner her about the discussion outside yet and, truthfully, Alina is grateful. She’s too tired to dive into that frustration again. Nikolai smiles at them both on his way out, taking the time to press a soft kiss to their knuckles, while Aleksander only spares Alina a brief look. It’s full of warning, and some kind of heat Alina wants to put down to anger. As soon as they leave she sags against the wall. Genya looks just as tired as she does.

“They’re certainly a piece of work, aren’t they?” she muses, coming to lean against the wall next to Alina. “How are you feeling?”

“It’s a lot of pressure, and it’s only now occurring to me how dangerous this truly is,” Alina admits. At first, even when she’d found the first body, it had all almost been a little bit of fun–a journey out of her ordinary, normal life. But now everything has been tipped on its head, and a part of Alina desperately wishes she hadn’t sought out the murderer those days ago. 

Though if she said she wholly wanted to return to normal, she’d be lying.

“As soon as this is over, you’ll be done with him at least.”

Alina laughs at Genya’s dry tone, but it falls flat. Her heart simply isn’t in it.

“I don’t think I want to be done with him, Genya,” she whispers after a moment of thought. Her voice is quiet, secretive. Conflicted. “We butt heads constantly, and he has been a constant source of frustration for these past few weeks–but he’s my only link to this all. He can help me come to terms with it all, help me bloom, I suppose. “

“I know.” Genya shrugs. “I was just trying to be optimistic.”

“And I appreciate it.” Gently, Alina rests her head on Genya’s shoulder and groans. “Where would I be without you?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she begins. “Dead in a ditch somewhere? Running away with some handsome stranger?”

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t run away with some handsome stranger,” Alina retorts. Genya laughs in response.

“Some _pretty_ stranger, I think you mean. But that’s beside the point.”

Before Alina can speak again, three simultaneous knocks hit the door. Alina and Genya stare at the door for a moment, their laughter dying off as they wait for the knocks again–then they come, and the pair of them straighten.

“Maybe it’s Aleksander returning to beg for your forgiveness.” 

“Unlikely,” Alina snorts, but she does wonder if it could be Aleksander. Likely here to antagonise her further. Quickly, she steps forward, fully prepared to begin the argument anew when she opens the door, but instead of launching whatever insult she can manage at the person in front of her, Alina freezes. Genya peers over her shoulder, her jaw dropping just like Alina’s.

“May I come in?”

Mal stands at the doorway, large box in hand and wearing a severe, but hopeful expression. Alina’s hand drops from the door.

“Of course. Let’s go upstairs. Away from prying eyes–and ears.” Alina points a look at Genya, who smiles sweetly and innocently in response, as Mal slips into the hallway and begins to make his way up the stairs. Alina quickly follows, heart beating an erratic rhythm in her chest.

When they reach her room, Alina closes the door behind them with a soft click. Mal sets down the box on the bed–then turns. Alina holds her breath. They stand no more than a few feet apart, but it feels like miles.

“Firstly, I want to apologise for my reaction yesterday.”

“Mal–”

“You have to understand, it was a lot to take in… but I also didn’t handle what you told me with respect. I acted like the victim. I still don’t really understand, and everything would be much easier if you couldn’t shoot light from your fingertips–but if you need my help, you don’t even have to ask.”

Alina manages a few, hesitant steps forwards. Her arms hang loosely by her sides as she approaches Mal. His apology isn’t perfect by any means–but neither is he. Alina is just glad that he’s back. 

“We do need a driver.”

“They do know I can’t do anything special, don’t they?” His lips twist into something bitter, and it only reminds Alina of Aleksander’s biting words earlier. 

“You can hunt. Your aim is impeccable. Don’t sell yourself short.” 

Mal shrugs her compliments off, instead gesturing to the box on her bed. 

“Come here. I have something to show you.” 

He doesn’t remove the lid until Alina stands beside him. As soon as he does, Alina gasps.

“ _Mal_.”

Inside is the most beautiful dress she has ever seen. Golden–but not gaudy like the material Genya had tried to force upon her. It is silken and almost shimmers. Alina pulls the ball gown out of the box and runs her fingers along the delicate swirls that climb up the skirts. They look like the rays of sun and starlight an artist may paint across a canvas.

“I don’t think I can accept this. It’s beautiful, but C already paid for my other dress.”

“Alina, it’s a statement. You don’t have to wear this if you don’t want to but you… you summon the sun, and you deserve to look the part.” 

“Genya does have pins that will go perfectly with this,” she admits softly, running her hands over the beautiful fabric yet again. “Mal this is perfect. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Just be careful tomorrow. That’s all I ask.” 

Alina smiles. “That I think I can do.”

But by the time the ball arrives and Alina finds herself sitting opposite Genya in the Safin carriage, she isn’t so sure. The ivory pendant sits heavily at the dip of her throat, almost burning into her skin, and she is all too aware of the layers of dresses she wears and the tightness of her corset–looser than normal, but still too much.

“You know, this isn’t the most practical outfit for a situation like this,” Alina mutters. Genya shrugs.

“No. But you do look amazing–and it’s not as if you could have turned up to a ball wearing Mal’s trousers and an old shirt.”

Alina sighs. Besides, with Aleksander there to pin the beast down it shouldn’t require too much movement to finish it once and for all. Although Alina has been wondering if using his abilities is the best course of action. The shield he used back at his house did work, but any blasts of shadow he used after that were ineffective. Alina’s light also only managed to startle it, injuring its leg at most, so it will likely take more than one blast to destroy the creature. All of a sudden, their plan doesn’t seem solid enough. Beneath her dress Alina begins to sweat. 

When the carriage finally comes to a stop, Alina feels her stomach erupt into a violent swirl of nerves and fear. Going to a ball, a royal ball, is nerve-wracking enough, but knowing that she’ll be facing off something born of pure darkness amplifies the fear from ten to a thousand instantly. 

“Are you alright?” Genya’s face swims into Alina’s vision. She looks concerned, but her jaw is set. It’s time to go. No time to up and flee. 

“I just need one second.”

“I’ll wait outside for you.” Genya pauses before climbing out, offering one small smile to Alina first. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Alina smiles back. She hopes that this isn’t a goodbye.

Inside the ballroom, Nikolai and Aleksander will be waiting. Inside the ballroom, hundreds of people mill about, gossiping and laughing, unaware of the true evil that is lurking through the streets. It’s the knowledge that they are almost relying on her too. Alina takes one final, deep breath, and pushes one foot outside of the carriage. The footman takes her hand, gently leading her out and not letting go until she is solidly on the ground. 

Genya sidles up next to Alina. Her presence is a rock. 

“You ready?” Alina asks, looping her arm through Genya’s. At her nod, they begin to walk, right into the eagle’s nest.


	10. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final full chapter before the epilogue! At a whopping 5k this one was a complete joy to write, and one scene made me particularly emotional (you'll probably know which). I'll save my mass of soppy thank yous for the epilogue a/n. Enjoy this chapter!

The hall is massive–elegantly decorated with its colour scheme of white and gold and lanterns that glow softly from where they hang from the ceiling. A large set of glass doors leads to a balcony, where stairs lead down into the gardens that stretch for miles–the gardens that both Alina and Aleksander will be fleeing through to get to the carriage that waits on the other side. 

Walking down the stairs into the ballroom had been one of the most daunting experiences of Alina’s life. Not only had people blatantly stared as she and Genya made their way down but Alina was all too aware of the dark figure tucked away by one of the many pillars, and Nikolai’s subtle wink hadn’t done much for her nerves either. The prince currently stands with his father and brother, his mother likely hiding away with her headaches as usual. Next to Nikolai stands a tall woman with long, dark hair and as Alina nears, preparing herself to greet the king, Alina spots her deep, blue eyes. Genya hums next to her.

“Who knew Nikolai had such good taste?”

Alina ignores Genya and carefully steps forward the second it is their turn to thank the royal family.

The King is worse than she ever imagined.

He sits slumped in his throne, lazy, but he perks up when Genya and Alina curtsey before him. 

“Alina Starkov, it is a pleasure to meet you.” The King reaches forward to take Alina’s hand in his and presses a slobbery kiss to her knuckles. It’s like being kissed by a dog–just much worse. 

_He presumes you’re just a member of my staff, an apprentice of sorts to Aleksander._ Nikolai had explained the day before, grimacing as he explained his father’s behaviours and interest in Alina. _He knows you can do something out of the ordinary, but not quite what that is._

Alina can handle his interest in her abilities, and can just about manage his eyes slipping lower than they should–but what Alina can’t stand is the eagerness on his face and the hunger in his eyes when he takes Genya’s hand. As soon as they part, Alina steps a little in front of her, and Nikolai moves forward to guard the pair of them from his father’s vision.

“Welcome, ladies,” he charms, though his smile has a bitter twinge to it. His next words are much softer, quiet, only for Alina and Genya rather than the queue that gathers behind them. “I do apologise, but you’ll be pleased to know that’s the extent of your duties to him this evening.” Nikolai’s words go in one ear and out the other; Alina is too distracted by the woman behind him to hear what he is saying. The woman watches over his shoulder, an analytical look in her eye and a vindictive purse to her lips. Alina frowns. She raises an eyebrow.

“Abandoned Aleksander?” Alina asks as she drags her eyes away from the woman. Nikolai snorts.

“He is off sulking by the pillars, as I’m sure you saw.” 

“Enough talk of him,” Genya interrupts, peering subtly around Nikolai’s shoulder just as the woman leans in close to listen to something Vasily has to say. “Who is that?”

“Zoya Nazyalensky. My aide, advisor, closest friend–whatever you want to call it.” There’s pride in Nikolai’s voice. Whatever their relationship, they are clearly close. Alina suddenly, desperately wants to take Genya’s hand and leave. “Would you like an introduction?”

“That would be wonderful.”

“I am going to find Aleksander.” Meeting Zoya Nazyalensky is not something that is at the top of her agenda. Dealing with one high-and-mighty royal employee (Aleksander) at a time is enough. She doesn’t think she could manage two. Before she can leave, Genya quickly latches onto Alina’s hand and although she hides it well, Alina can see the desperation in her eyes clear as day. 

“Be careful.”

“I will.”

And then Genya is whisked away, and Alina is left to search the ballroom for a man that can actually disappear into the shadows.

Bright colours swirl about the ballroom floor as guests begin to dance. It starts as a slow trickle at first–some people gingerly making their way to the floor, wondering if it is too early to start dancing–but then there is a sudden rush, and the floor is a kaleidoscope of colour. Alina sticks to the edges as she slowly makes her way towards where she had spotted Aleksander earlier. And sure enough, there he is, standing next to a pillar and looking like he wishes he were anywhere but here. 

Alina stops beside him and looks out into the crowd. The beauty here is so at odds with what this evening has truly become for–a distraction and nothing else. 

“Not much of a dancer?” Alina prods. Aleksander sighs.

“I can dance.”

“But you don’t want to.” She points out - he doesn’t respond. Alina turns to face him and holds her hand out in front of her. Aleksander looks down at her hand and then back up at her. “I won’t step on your toes.” Alina promises.

And then Aleksander does the unexpected: he takes her hand, _gently_ , and slowly leads her out onto the ballroom floor. People part instinctively for him. He moves so elegantly, like a swan through water, as if it is the most natural thing in the world to radiate that much power. Although, with his poor moods, Aleksander is probably more of a goose than a swan. As the music starts anew, Aleksander wraps an arm around Alina’s waist and pulls her into a dance. 

Alina had expected Aleksander to dance as if he were detached, to dance as if intimacy was a concept that simply did not exist–but it is the complete opposite. Aleksander holds her as close as he possibly can, his hand warming through the fabric at her back through to her skin. He doesn’t break eye contact. Alina feels her cheeks heat.

It is too easy to forget that in a short while they will be racing through the city, seeking to destroy the very evil Aleksander created.

“There is no way we could have let it live. You know that, don’t you?” She speaks softly. They’re close enough for him to hear her despite the loud music. It occurs to Alina then that the intimacy is probably just for a show. She should feel relieved, but she doesn’t.

“I know.”

They twirl around the floor, weaving between other couples like a needle through fabric, for a few seconds before Alina speaks again.

“Will you make another?” The hand at her back increases its pressure slightly and Aleksander’s jaw clenches. It’s the first time he looks away. Alina immediately reaches up to tilt his face back to hers. He doesn’t freeze or even stutter at the contact, but he does swallow. “I won’t take anything but the truth.”

Slowly, Aleksander places his hand over hers, resting there for a second before moving their hands back down to where they had originally hovered in the air.

“I will not make another, Alina.”

But she doesn’t believe him. Even with his eyes locked on hers and his hand slipping over the silken glove covering her fingertips, Alina doesn’t believe him. He may not create another of the same but he is too power-hungry to not venture further. The thought hurts.

“When you said you understand what it feels like to be lonely…” she begins. The conversation had been playing in her head over and over again since they’d had it. At first, she’d presumed he’d just meant he’d had a lonely upbringing–no friends, little family–but thinking on it...“There isn’t anyone else like you, is there? At least not that you know of.” Every other creature on the other side of the city belonged to some group, or family, never wondering if they are the only one in a whole species. But Aleksander, he may be all there is.

He doesn’t answer straight away. His eyes run along the curious yet concerned furrow of her eyebrows and the downwards tilt to her lips. They pause there for one, two seconds, before finally making their way back up to her own eyes. 

“There is you.” 

Alina comes to a sudden halt. Aleksander stops with her. No wonder he is so fascinated with her. It goes beyond simply being interested in the amount of power she may have, it’s about loneliness and finding someone that understands–and what’s worse is that she does understand. That moment that softly whispers , _ah, I’ve found you._

“Alina–”

The band suddenly stops as loud clapping comes from the royal dais. Alina still doesn’t pull away.

“I know. I understand.” She tightens her grip around his hand for a brief second before finally pulling away. They both turn towards the dais where Nikolai stands, Zoya behind him and Genya beside her, clapping to get the crowd’s attention. 

“Band, time for the , _Sunlit Serenade!”_

“Well, that wasn’t subtle,” Alina mutters. “We need to go. The doors should be open by now.” 

“Lead the way.” 

They set off immediately. Pushing through the crowd is easier said than done with the guests recoupling and milling about each other, but soon pop out by the large, balcony doors. They don’t take the time to admire the different patterns engraved into the balcony or the banister leading down the stairs. As they pass by the large maze, giggles and soft moans slip from the gaps in the hedges. Nikolai had warned that there would be people in the garden, frolicking and using the space for a secret rendezvous, but the chances of them causing any trouble would be slim. 

“We don’t have long. You are sure Malyen will be where he said he would?”

“Certain,” Alina huffs, her breathing becoming laboured as they rush through archways and past sculptures and fountains. “You need to trust me, Aleksander.”

“It isn’t you that I don’t trust.”

“Then trust my judgment.” The other end soon comes into sight and relief rushes through Alina when she spots the carriage parked up by the pavement. Mal’s silhouette sits rigid in the raised seat, reins in his hand, ready at the wait. “Besides, we come as a package. I won’t lose him for anything.”

As they near relief lights up Mal’s face, though his soft smile soon turns bitter at the sight of Aleksander.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Alina nods. Aleksander stands by the carriage, pulling open the door ready for when Alina has to rush in. As soon as she sends off the beacon they likely won’t have much time before the creature comes for Alina at full speed. “It shouldn’t be long.” The three of them watch the sky in anticipation. The only downside of being so far from the ballroom is that they can’t hear when the song ends, but at the very least fireworks are easy to hear and see and, knowing Nikolai, they’ll be the noisiest and brightest fireworks he could have chosen. 

When the first firework shoots into the air and flashes in a bright burst of yellow and white, Alina watches for a moment. They’re beautiful–and the perfect colour combination to mask her own light show. She then reaches into the air, dreadfully aware of Aleksander at her side and Mal sitting just behind her, and closes her eyes. Her other hand finds its way to the pendant at her neck. It heats in her palm to the point that Alina wonders if stag horns will be burned into the skin of her palm.

Then, release.

She opens her eyes as heat shoots across her other palm and stares wide-eyed at the sky. In the sky shoots a straight beam of light so bright it is white. There is no way anyone could miss it, let alone a creature that is drawn to her abilities anyway. It soon fades and, before she can blink the black spots in her eyes away, Aleksander is not-so-gently pushing Alina into the carriage.

“We need to go. _Now._ ”

“How quickly do you think it will reach us?” Alina asks as Aleksander bats the top of the carriage roof. Mal sets off immediately, causing Alina to jerk back in her seat and Aleksander to slip forwards.

“I can’t be sure.” He nudges the little curtains to the side and peers out into the night. Alina doesn’t think it’ll do any good–the creature will make sure not to be seen. “We know it can slip into shadow, but I doubt it can shadow-walk for long.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice to be certain of something, for once?” Alina’s hand still tingles, as though she had rested on her hand for too long and let it go numb. But she hasn’t ever felt more alive. One shot of light and her adrenaline is pumping. It’s addictive. Alina can almost see why Aleksander wants more and more of it.

Almost–but not quite.

“We shouldn’t be far from the park. Are you ready–”

A thump at the side of the carriage, far too close to the door for Alina’s liking, cuts Aleksander off. They both stare at the space as they wait for something to happen. Alina’s heart is about to shoot through her chest, and she curses herself for blatantly ignoring any possibility of the plan going south. Why hadn’t they discussed a backup plan? 

There’s no more thumps against the carriage as they make a few more metres down the street. Alina is ready to admit that it may have been nothing at all–a low hanging tree branch, a bench they’d knocked, potentially even her paranoid imagination–but then the carriage swerves. Mal’s cursing can be heard over the clattering of the wheels, and it sends panic straight to Alina’s throat. Even Aleksander looks concerned–to an extent. Just before Mal can right the carriage, something heavy runs into the carriage and, before Alina can even scream, it crashes and topples over. 

It takes her a moment to pull herself together. The ringing in her ears makes it hard to sit up but the sight of Aleksander, unconscious on the side of the carriage, has her crawling over as quickly as she can. Alina runs her hands across his cheeks, pushing his hair away from his pale, sticky forehead, staring at the blood around his nose and the fingers bent at odd angles. She doesn’t remember the last time she felt panic like this–but she also doesn’t have the time to stop. Alina brushes a hand through his hair one last time before forcing herself to pull away. Mal is outside. She can’t afford to lose time. 

Getting out of the carriage is a nightmare. Alina can just about reach the door and push it open, but actually pulling herself up is another story. It takes a few tries. The first time she almost lands on Aleksander, having lost her footing and slipping. The second time her grip isn’t enough. She does manage on the third, but it is a stark reminder that her body is really quite weak. 

Alina doesn’t waste time wondering what this weakness means for her battle against the creature. Blocking out all thoughts of failure is the only thing she can do. 

Her ankle yells in pain as she jumps down from the carriage. She stumbles, catching herself on one of the wheels, and slowly tries to walk. It hurts–but it’s bearable. It becomes easier to put aside when she spots Mal by a lamppost, slumped on the ground with a large stream of blood rushing from his forehead. 

Alina is by his side in seconds; she has to clamber over bits of carriage, now splintered, and injured horses to get to him–but she is soon on her knees, running her finger over the blood that runs from beneath his hair. Now that she is closer, Alina can also see that his shoulder is out of place and a bone sticks out of his left leg. This is when tears finally begin to prick at her eyes. She won’t let herself cry, not before the job is done and everything truly is lost, but Mal won’t open his eyes, and Aleksander is equally as unconscious on the carriage floor. 

She doesn’t know what to do.

The creature could be anywhere at this point: patrolling the crash site, waiting in a darkened door away or shadowed alley. Everything feels so helpless. 

But she can’t stop. If she stops, gives up, then there is no one to protect Mal, or Aleksander, Genya–the people of the city–from something only she can stop. She’s never been one to abandon people. Alina won’t start now. 

Just as she brushes a thumb over the curve of Mal’s cheek, his eyes open. They’re still half lidded and woozy, but they’re open. Alina’s heart cries with relief. She watches his lips move, waits patiently as he coughs, leans in closer to hear what he says.

“You have got to run.”

“Run?” She pulls back, confused. “Mal, I’m going to stay and fight–”

“ _Alina!_ ” 

Alina spins around on her knees and feels pure terror roll through her when she meets eyes with a dark, lumbering figure. It almost jogs towards her. As she tries to stand, her ankle complains, and she stumbles back to a kneeling position. She grabs Mal’s hand instinctively and quickly raises the other. 

She doesn’t get the chance to hit it with anything. 

A dark bolt shoots from the other side of the carriage, blasting the creature to the side and forcing it to retreat for a moment. It bears its teeth as Aleksander moves into her vision. He’s limping, and a trickle of blood runs from his nose, but he is resolute. He is a walking shadow, the creator come to destroy his creation.

“Run!” he calls, shooting another bolt of shadow at the creature. “I’ll take care of Malyen.”

So Alina runs. It’s painful, at first, but the adrenaline soon covers her pain and has her moving as quickly as she can. Her dirt and blood covered skirts are clenched in her fists and she can see her hair flying around her, now falling from the beautiful bun Genya had perfected earlier. 

There’s a story about a woman fleeing from a ball, knowing that at midnight she will have to return to her same, miserable life. Instead, Alina is fleeing for her life. 

As she runs, Alina realises that she isn’t headed in the direction of the park. Instead, her feet have carried her in the direction of the market–but the market is thin and narrow. There will be no space to fight and it’s not as if she can run across the bridge and–

She nearly comes to a stumbling halt.

_The bridge._

Alina begins to run towards it with new vigor. 

True, the market doesn’t possess the best amount of space to fight–but the bridge, despite being narrow and relatively small, does have something vital.

Blasting apart the creature with light is unlikely to work. Alina won’t physically be able to hit it effectively without Aleksander holding it down, and she’s not strong enough to fight it for minutes on end. It also only has a limp after two powerful shots of light from Alina already. She needs extra help and the bridge, or rather the water with its ability to cure darkness, will be the perfect partner in crime.

The markets are completely empty as she finally arrives but the magic in the place is still abundantly clear. The stalls are still bright with colour despite the time of night, and Alina’s body hums with pleasure when she nears one of the stalls. 

It’s then that she realises slowing down with a mistake.

The creature shoots from behind her, managing to push her to the ground and knock her chin against the floor. Her mouth quickly fills with the taste of iron, but Alina quickly stumbles upwards, and she races towards the same stall Aleksander had showed her the other day. The creature follows slowly. It’s toying with her–it thinks it has already won. 

Alina makes it to the centre of the bridge just as the creature comes into full view. 

She smiles, teeth probably bloody, when it steps out tenderly. 

_It’s afraid of the water._

It stops a few metres away from her. Alina lets out a heavy sigh, her legs barely holding her up and her head dizzy with exhaustion.

“Come on then.” She laughs drily.

The creature dives for her. 

Alina just manages to stumble out of the way, her hip hitting the small wall of the bridge. She blindly sends off one blast of light–It doesn’t hit. She also doesn’t manage to avoid the creature’s second attack. It’s claws just scrape the side of her neck, sending a shooting pain down her spine and ringing into her head. Alina lands on the floor.

The creature lets her crawl away, lets her prop herself up against the stone barrier before it begins to prowl towards her again.

“You feed on it, don’t you, the terror? You enjoy it. You love making anyone with an ounce of power terrified.” She coughs and wipes at her mouth. It stops just in front of her, grinning and drooling. “Well, I am scared.” Alina raises a hand. The creature tilts its head.

“But you are the one that should be terrified.”

The blast, strong and bright, hits the creature directly in the middle of its face.

It lets off a loud and sharp howl as it teeters backward, but Alina doesn’t stop. She slowly and shakily gets to her knees as she shoots one bolt of light after the other at the creature, ignoring the ringing in her head and the pain in her ankle as she watches it desperately try to push back against the light. But it can’t.

“You really thought that you would win?” Alina hisses. “You came for my friends, my family–the people that I love, and you thought you would _win?_ ” She stops for a moment, arm still raised, as she watches the creature pant and hiss and whimper. There are holes in its body, almost fizzing and burning. “I know you can understand me. You’re smart, but you weren’t smart enough.”

The beam that shoots from the palm of her hand is strong and concentrated and continuous. Alina doesn’t give in, not even when it’s howls grow louder and louder, not when smoke begins to rise and the sound of fizzling can be heard just beneath its screams. She doesn’t stop until the force of the light blasts through the brick wall and throws the creature into the water. 

Alina waits. Half of her expects the creature to climb back over the wall, but when she looks down into the river all she can see is the water slowly pulling apart something black and inky.

This is when she finally sags and falls to the ground. She presses her back against the wall, letting her legs stretch out in front of her–and slowly, Alina lets herself cry. It isn’t violent, it doesn’t wrack her body with shaking and trembling; it’s gentle, tired. Her vision starts to dot with black and the ringing in her head grows louder and louder with each passing second.

She doesn’t expect to see a figure suddenly crouching in front of her.

The dark curled hair and gently pointed ears are a welcome sight. Alina lets out a single, choked sob.

“Tati–”

“Shh, it’s okay. I know. I know.” One hand strokes across Alina’s hair gently while the other runs across her neck, her arms, her stomach, searching for any sign of injury. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” Alina nods and finally passes out. 

She wakes up a few days later, and that evening finds herself sitting in her room, carefully drinking hot chocolate, and listening to Mal’s version of the night as Genya sits at her vanity. Aleksander had done as he said he would, and fixed up Mal’s injuries as quickly as possible.

“I still abhor the man–but I am grateful,” He finally concludes and Alina smiles. She’s too tired to do much else. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” she says into her mug. “Happy everyone is safe.”

“Nikolai stopped by yesterday to give his best regards, by the way. Something tells me he’ll be in touch again.” Mal’s voice turns a little bitter, even if he tries to hide it. Alina sets her mug down on the counter beside her and sighs in response.

“Unfortunately, Mal, I think this is my life now.”

“I know–”

“No.” She interrupts and covers his hand softly with hers. “You don’t. There is no going back. I… I refuse to go back.” 

After a moment Mal slowly nods, running his hand through his hair. 

“I should go,” he says softly as he stands. “I’ll come visit again sometime this week.” Then he bends to press a kiss to her forehead, and he is gone. Aleksander steps in a few seconds later.

“You were waiting for him to leave, weren’t you?” Alina asks drily.

“I don’t do well with hero worship,” Aleksander responds in kind. Alina smiles while Genya coughs, trying to hide a laugh.

“Apologies, dry throat,” she excuses as she stands. “I’ll go fetch a glass of water.” 

As soon as they are alone Aleksander approaches the bed and slowly sits on the edge by Alina’s side. She doesn’t wait for him to speak.

“You should leave–the city, I mean.”

The suggestion doesn’t shock him. In fact, Aleksander nods.

“I will be leaving in a few days’ time. I came to check on you, and to say goodbye.”

“What happened was awful.” Aleksander turns to look at her as she speaks, though Alina looks down at her hands. “But I am still thankful you showed me it all. Even if it is just the tiniest fragment of what’s out there.”

“I won’t stop pursuing what I want, Alina. Being away from the city doesn’t mean anything.” 

“And I won’t stop protecting people. Even if it means being at odds with you.” 

Aleksander doesn’t move a muscle. There’s no shock, no outrage–he’d been expecting it. He almost looks as though he is counting on it. Slowly, he reaches forwards and a shiver rushes down her spine as his fingers tuck a lock of hair behind her ear before slipping down to trace the scar at her neck.

“There is so much more out there for you to see.”

“I know,” Alina agrees as her own hand reaches up to cover his. “But enough for now.”

He nods and slowly pulls away to stand. 

“One last thing.” Aleksander reaches into his pocket. What he pulls out has Alina sitting up straight despite the twinge in her back and the pounding ache in her head. “You dropped this.” One hand shoots to her neck as the other reaches forwards to take the necklace. The chain is broken, but the pendant still hangs secure. “We think it came off when it slashed at your neck.”

“But… but that means I can’t have been wearing it when it fell into the river.”

“You are more powerful than you know, Alina.” The words hang in the air as he looks out of the window. “You’ll be able to find me if you need me.”

Alina thinks of the heat in her chest and palms whenever he is near, how something beyond her body seems to call out to him. That connection formed from magic and something she doubts she will ever understand.

“Goodbye, Aleks.”

“Alina.” He smiles then. It isn’t large or wide or bright by any means, but it is a smile for her. Aina locks it away tight in the back of her mind, hides it among other treasured memories, and watches with a bittersweet mixture of relief and regret as Aleksander finally leaves. Genya bustles in a few minutes later, immediately returning to fuss over her non-stop. 

“You can rest, Genya. I’m fine. Tati fixed me up perfectly.” Alina reassures, her smile soft. 

“I know.” Genya sighs, flopping down next to Alina. “At least we match now.” Genya’s finger points to the few scars on her neck and cheek before gesturing to Alina’s own. 

“Right. Because every family aims for matching scars.”

“I suppose it is quite morbid.” She hums, before rolling onto her side to face Alina. “We need a holiday. A nice little cottage in the countryside where we can bake all day and drink all night.” 

“That sounds incredible.” Alina laughs, but it soon dies down as she peers out of the window. The sky is beginning to turn pink and yellow, the sun slowly hiding away.

“He’ll be back.”

Alina turns to Genya, eyebrows pulling down in confusion. “Who?” _Or rather, which one?_

But Genya just lowers her eyes and smiles, almost secretively, as she fiddles with the blanket laid over Alina.

“This isn’t over, is it?” It’s the first time in a while Alina has heard Genya say anything so quietly and timidly. It is the first time in a long, long while that Alina has been so sure of anything.

“It isn’t. But we’ll be ready.” Genya smiles up at her and holds out her hand. Alina takes tight in her grip and squeezes as they both glance out of the window and watch the sun slowly settle down for the night. The thought of her family being in danger again drops a seed of fear in the pit of her stomach–but Alina knows that she will be ready. 

She has to be.


	11. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're finished!!! A big thank you to all of my amazing gang-artists (works are linked in the prologue, more easily found on my tumblr posts) for helping me bring this fic to life. Their art really adds another dimension to this fic, and if you haven't seen them yet you really need to. Also thank you to my beta reader, Lo, for correcting my endless spelling mistakes and taking out an unending amount of useless commas. And finally, thank you to everyone who read this fic! It's a small circle of you, but a precious one. Needless to say, I will definitely be taking part in the gvbb next year.

It’s been a week since Alina Starkov managed to rid the city of the creature and its darkness. The bridge between two worlds is still shattered in half and masses of cobblestones lay at the bottom of the river, trapping the remains of a dark body and malicious grin. It’s been a week of public confusion and private celebrations–but Nikolai Lantsov hasn’t stopped planning.

He currently stands by a large window in his private study, overlooking the city, watching as his people mill about the square just outside of the palace walls. The woman in blue stands beside him–scowling, but beautiful no less.

“You want to use the girl? She’s still so weak.”

“All she needs is some training, Zoya. That little accessory of hers will do the rest of the work.” 

Zoya falls quiet and twirls a dark lock of hair around her finger. She may be Nikolai’s most trusted advisor and friend, but that doesn’t mean she has to agree with everything he thinks or says.

“You think he’ll return, don’t you?”

Nikolai only nods. Zoya sighs.

“She told him to leave. He left for _her._ ”

“And he will come back for her too. She’s a symbol of power. She _is_ power.” It’s then that Zoya notices the slight strain in Nikolai’s voice. Allowing Aleksander to experiment with royal funding meant controlling his every move, but with him gone he has become unpredictable–with this new freedom he may do as he likes. 

They may have prevented one threat, but in doing so they have given birth to another.

“We give her a role at the palace, offer to train her, teach her what I can–even if what I can do is incredibly different. But what happens if she joins him? They’re drawn to each other, Nikolai, on some level we can’t understand.”

“She won’t. Not if he threatens someone she loves.”

He sounds so calm, but Zoya still feels a shiver creep down her spine at his suggestion. Sometimes he is too cunning for his own good.

“Be careful, Nikolai. You’re playing with fire.”

Nikolai glances at Zoya out of the corner of his eye before looking back out of the window. His jaw is set–and so is his mind.

“Invite Alina Starkov and her family to the palace. We have a proposition to make.”


End file.
